Just Married
by ScarlettSunshine
Summary: Jump right into the middle of a marriage law fic with Fred and Hermione. A story of firsts. It's awkward, it's sweet, it's fluffy, and it's all in the name of an outrageous law.
1. The First Chapter

**Disclaimer: all characters and settings belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. **

The wedding was small and simple. The small gathering consisted solely of the Weasleys and Harry. The ministry official over saw the proceedings and a kind yet still very to the point wizard, as referred by Arthur, performed the ceremony.

Rings were exchanged, vows were echoed back and forth, and Fred kissed Hermione chastely before they were announced to be husband and wife, exchanging rings that only their spouse could remove for them and that were silver but were promised to turn gold once the marriage had been consummated. It was surprisingly quick and easy.

The couple was then whisked away by the ministry official to a small meeting room where they were briefed on the various requirements of the law and told of the random checkups they might be receiving at any time and the penalties that would be implemented if they were found to not be adequately adhering to the new law. Hermione blushed and bit her tongue throughout the entire conversation and she could feel Fred tensing beside her as the official went on and on about the rules of his new marriage.

When they were finally permitted to return to their very few guests, fully intending to say their goodbyes and just be on their way, Mrs. Weasley sprung on them the fact that they were all going to the Burrow for a grand dinner she had spent all morning preparing for. Hermione, though in no mood for any sort of festivities, didn't have the heart to decline Molly's invitation after the woman had offered the information of how early she had woken up to be ready for the evening. Fred shared a look with his new wife at his mother's joy and excitement but once he received a slight nod from Hermione, he thanked his mum and prepared to apparate to his childhood home.

Dinner was an odd affair. Hermione was quiet, not that she was usually loud, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes and it seemed as though she drifted in and out of her surroundings throughout the whole ordeal. Fred tried to joke around with George and Charlie as per usual, but he, too, was only half there sometimes. He couldn't recall the middle bit of George's speech to him and Hermione and he felt a little guilty about that. He knew his brother had put a good amount of effort into that speech.

After they had finished dinner, the whole group of them moved into the living room and Bill helped Ginny fix tea for everyone while their mother had Fleur's help with the dishes. Hermione was quietly debating with herself over where she should sit-there was space beside Fred, but would that seem as though she was trying too hard?-when Harry came over to her and took her hand.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked gently.

Hermione found that she was suddenly unable to speak entirely and the feeling of being overwhelmed hovered over her like a wave about to crash. She nodded dumbly and Harry gave her a small smile before leading her outside, hoping the fresh air would ease her a bit.

With hands firmly on her shoulders, Harry steered his friend over to a bench off to the side. He sat her down and met her distant gaze, his emerald eyes staring in to hers. His breathing was deep and she mimicked it just as he'd unconsciously intended her to do.

"I'm listening," he told her.

"I don't know what it is," Hermione admitted. "Yesterday I was fine. I was completely okay with all of it. But today...now that it's all happening...now that we're actually...I just don't know how it's going to work anymore. I'm not ready for this." She planted her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, her face in her hands as she breathed deeply and pressed her temples. At least she wasn't crying. She knew that neither her nor Harry could handle it if she cried.

Harry sat down beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Hermione, it's going to be alright. It's Fred. You've known each other for years. He cares about you. He'll...Fred will take care you and you'll always have us, too, okay? You're not alone in this."

Hermione let out an unsteady sigh. "I don't need taking care of. It's not that. I mean...Fred is a wonderful person. I could have done much worse. But I don't know how to be a wife. Much less a mother in a limited amount of time. I haven't planned that far. I haven't any idea what I'm doing."

Harry chuckled. "Hermione, that's ridiculous. I don't know anyone else more equipped and ready to be a mother than you. You're going to be a wonderful mum. And I'm sure you and Fred will be great together. You just need a bit of time. Don't worry yourself."

"Harry," Hermione went on in a small voice, "what about tonight? What if I'm not ready for that?"

As she felt her cheeks heat to a brilliant scarlet, she desperately wanted to take the question back. A quick peek at Harry told her that he was tinged pink as well.

"Don't worry about that," he told her. "I'm sure...it's Fred, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

She looked at him with curious eyes. "What do you mean by that? That it's Fred?"

Harry shrugged helplessly and Hermione felt even more uneasy.

Now at a loss for words of encouragement, Harry resorted to enveloping her in a hug, holding her tightly and telling her one last time that things would be okay.

She wondered if she would be happy with that. If she would be happy with okay.

George watched his twin with interest. Fred kept glancing at the door, an expression of concern etched on his features.

"What is it?" George asked, plopping down next to brother and nudging him. "Can't wait to get out of here with Hermione?"

Fred either hadn't heard him or just didn't find the comment even remotely funny at the moment. Either way, George got no reaction from him.

"Harry took her outside," Fred said flatly.

"Oh," George said with a nod. "Well, you know, they're probably just talking."

Fred shook his head. "It's not that. It's that I know they're talking about me."

"Fred."

"She's miserable George!" he exclaimed. "She doesn't want to be married to me."

"And you were so keen to marry her?" George retorted sarcastically.

"I wasn't totally opposed to it," Fred defended. "Besides, I want to make this work. If we're going to be married...and have a child...I just think we could actually do this but she doesn't seem to even..."

"Fred, it isn't you," George told him. "This is Hermione Granger. She didn't want to marry anyone. She doesn't like being told what to do."

Fred had to laugh at the truth in that.

"It will work out," George assured. "You're one of the best blokes about here, second only to me. She'll warm up to you."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm always right!" George said.

"No, _she's_ always right," Fred contradicted.

"When have I ever steered you wrong?" George asked.

"When we were five you told me to wash Dad's loafer's in the tub after you—"

"Besides that," George cut in.

Fred shrugged. "Back in second year you made me eat six pies and I—"

"I'm right about this. It will work out."

Fred smiled. "I'm glad I have you, Georgie."

"I know." George grinned.

Fred saw Harry ushering Hermione back inside and quickly got to his feet. George looked to him questioningly.

Hermione looked like she was ready to leave. Her gaze swept over the room until it landed on Fred. Her stare lingered on him for a moment before turning downwards.

"As fun as this has been," Fred began to George, "it looks like my lovely wife is ready to head home. You lot going to see us out?"

"Yeah," George said. "You go on, I'll round them up."

Fred strode over to Hermione, gave Harry a look that got him an understanding nod and for the dark haired man to return to the others, and waited for her to look at him. She put on a smile for him though even she could feel it waver with nervousness. He returned the smile the best he could and saw hers widen just the slightest bit. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

She nodded.

It was silent.

Molly came hurrying from the kitchen with George right behind her. "Leaving so soon?" she asked.

Hermione quietly affirmed this and Fred spoke up. "It's been a long day. Thanks for everything, Mum."

Hermione was quick to second that and give Molly a hug. Fred kissed his mum's cheek as everyone else joined them.

Hermione went through the line of people and hugged them, thanked them for being there and accepted the congratulations she was offered. Fred followed suit in saying goodbye to his brothers and hugging his sister and sister-in-laws. His dad and Bill were the last two people he addressed.

His father lowered his voice. "We've raised you well," he said, "you'll be a gentleman." It was a statement.

Fred could've rolled his eyes at that but he knew that it was no joke. He nodded. "Of course."

Bill clapped him on the shoulder. "He'll treat her right," he said. "He'll be a great husband. He had you for a dad, didn't he?"

Mr. Weasley smiled at that and hugged both of his sons.

Fred saw that Hermione was still saying goodbye to Harry, Ginny and Ron so he kept his distance and let her take her time. A moment later everyone was waving goodbye to them as they made their way from the house to the apparition point. Hermione took Fred's arm and held on as he apparated them to his flat above the shop. George had moved in with Angelina a few weeks prior, so it was just the two of them.

When the spinning stopped, Hermione found that they were in front of the door to the flat and Fred was going through some sort of spell to unlock the door.

Hermione took in her surroundings.

The space was fairly large, spread out to be very open in all areas. To her immediate left was what she presumed to be the coat closet, to her far right were two doors that were spaced to indicate two bedrooms, directly in front of them, straight ahead a rug, a couch, two armchairs and a coffee table were arranged around the hearth. She assumed that the other door, on the left, past the kitchen and small table and chairs that were set up, was the bathroom.

The living room area was a bottle green colour, the rug maroon and the furniture various shades of brown. The kitchen was a serene sort of blue and the cupboards were light brown, all other walls that were visible to Hermione were a deep cream thus far.

If she wasn't so preoccupied worrying she would have been pleasantly surprised at the flat the twins had managed to decorate and bring together without disastrous colour clashing or any utterly horrendous paint choices. It was nice. Warm even.

"Ginny brought your bags here this morning," Fred said, gesturing at the luggage sitting in the living room. "I couldn't decide whether you'd want them in my room or in George—I mean, the other room."

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip. "I think I'd rather unpack my things into the second room, if you don't mind."

Fred felt his heart sink a bit. "Okay. No problem."

"Thank you."

She went for her bags but Fred beat her to it and picked them up, carrying them into what used to be George's room and setting them down there. Hermione followed him awkwardly.

After standing there, refusing to look at one another for a minute Fred broke the silence. "Do you want something to drink? Anything you need?"

She shook her head.

He hated the way the question sounded when he asked, "Should we go to my room then?"

Hermione nodded and followed Fred once again.

His room looked much like the other had, except the large bed was set with the headboard against the right wall rather than offset from the door and the closet was on the left wall.

Hermione's fingers fidgeted with her white dress robes as she stared at her covered toes. Fred looked at her, how pretty she looked in her bridal wear, before closing his eyes as the full realization hit him. They were white robes. Very white robes.

"Hermione," he said.

She looked up at that and swallowed thickly. "Yes?"

His eyes watched her closely. "You've never done this before, have you?" Her expression was answer enough but her brief, almost unseen, nod confirmed his suspicions. "You didn't think to mention that earlier?" he asked, hoping it came out lightly.

Hermione licked her lips uncomfortably. "I wasn't really sure that I had to say something. I thought you figured..."

Fred ran his hands through his hair and then pulled at his tie, undoing it and tossing it aside. "I'm sorry, I probably should have...it never even occured to me. How far have you...?" he trailed off but Hermione, though still innocent, was not naive. She knew where the question was going.

"Not very," she admitted.

Fred let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

"Hermione," Fred looked at her and shook his head, sitting down at the bottom of the bed and kicking of his shoes, "please don't be sorry."

"Not just this. About everything."

"Please don't be sorry," he repeated. "If you're sorry, then I have to be sorry. I don't want a marriage based on a load of unnecessary apologies. You don't have anything to apologise for."

He stood and went over to her, took her face in his hands and kissed her. She tensed.

He moved closer to her a bit, but the pressure of his lips lessened until they were just brushing over hers in a gentle caress. His hand slid into her hair and cradled the back of her head, the other going to her waist.

He felt her hesitantly and carefully place her hand on his shoulder. The other touched his hip iust barely before she second-guessed herself and dropped it to her side. Fred kissed her a litte harder then, wanting her to forget her worries and let go.

She remained tense as her mind continuously looped back to worrying over what was to come. She couldn't relax and all she could think about was how uncomfortable she was. Her chest felt like it was constricting as she pulled away from him. His fingertips had only barely grazed the buttons on the back of her dress.

"I'm—"

"I can't do this to you," Fred interrupted.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"You look terrified of me."

"I'm not terrified of you," Hermione protested, but it was a half-hearted argument at best.

Fred rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "You're not comfortable with this. I won't do this to you. I won't...I won't force myself on you."

Hermione looked down. "You're not forcing yourself on me, Fred," she said, wincing a bit. "It's just...well I'm perfectly fine until I think about what we're about to do. You're not doing anything wrong. It's me. I don't feel ready."

Fred nodded slowly. "Hermione, we're not going to do this tonight, okay?"

Hermione laughed sardonically, it seemed that getting that whole bit off of her chest had helped a rather large amount with the constricting feeling she'd had. "We don't have a choice," she said. "The charm won't deactivate until we've...consummated our marriage."

"Yes," Fred agreed, "but we have forty-eight hours to do so. We have until, let's say...Saturday evening to get comfortable around each other?"

She wasn't sure how comfortable she would become around her new husband in just less than two days but she was grateful regardless. "That sounds great," Hermione said, a relieved smile, her first real smile of the evening, gracing her features.

Fred grinned at her. "Do you want to go change into your pyjamas then?" She nodded. "You're sleeping in here tonight."

"I am?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I'm thinking maybe we should snog a little."

"Oh, really?"

**Author's Note: hi! For anyone who is worried that I'm starting a new story without finishing Lettie, know that this is just a ficlet that has been written on my phone for quite some time. It's sort of a vague marriage law story that I wrote because I like the idea of marriage law stories but I am really too busy/lazy/uninterested to write one of my own in entirety. So this is what I've got. Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Anyways, **

**Scarlett**


	2. The First Night

_Fred grinned at her. "Do you want to go change into your pyjamas then?" She nodded. "You're sleeping in here tonight."_

_"I am?" she asked. _

_"Yes," he confirmed. "I'm thinking maybe we should snog a little."_

_"Oh, really?"_

He smirked. "Definitely. What better way to get acquainted?"

She blushed and he began to shrug out of his robes. "The loo is the door across from your room by the way. Should have extra toiletries under the sink if you need them."

She thanked him and then slipped out of the room and into the other bedroom. She changed into her blue and purple pyjamas and then gathered together her toothbrush and toothpaste before padding over to the washroom. After doing the necessities and splashing cool water on her face, she returned to Fred's room.

He had changed into a t-shirt and boxer shorts. His body brushed against hers as he passed by her to leave the room and use the loo. She couldn't help a faint smile.

When he came back she was standing just as he'd left her, her eyes on the bed as though it was a puzzle that she couldn't for the life of her solve.

"Something wrong?" he asked carefully.

"No," she said quickly, jumping at his voice behind her when she hadn't heard him enter.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Actually yes," she said. "I wasn't sure which side of the bed you favour."

He chuckled. "As it is, I tend to splay myself out in the middle, so really the question is which side you would prefer."

She paused. "I usually sleep on the right," she told him.

He gestured to the bed accordingly. "It's all yours."

"Thanks."

She crawled under the covers and got settled while Fred put his dress robes away in his closet. He joined her in bed momentarily.

"So," he began, "er, I like having my hair played with and my ears kissed. The backs of my knees are ticklish and I'd go mad if I heard you say my name."

Hermione briefly wondered if she should be taking notes but a glance at Fred and his relaxed demeanour told her that it would be ridiculous to do so. He wasn't trying to give her instructions, he was simply trying to make her feel more comfortable with him by telling her these things. She supposed it took a fair deal of trust to divulge such information to another person, even for a seemingly shameless bloke like Fred Weasley.

She appreciated his effort immensely.

Wracking her brain for something to say to him in return, she turned in the soft bedding to face him."I like having the spot under and just behind my ears kissed," she admitted quietly.

He lifted himself onto his elbow and leaned over her. Bracing his other hand just above her head, his lips started at her jawline and, as she instinctively tilted her head back, they made their way to the spot she had described, soft and warm against the sensitive skin there. "Here?" he asked, his lips tickling her slightly.

"Mhmm," she hummed.

"What else?" he questioned, returning to his earlier position, a little bit closer now.

"I don't really know," she replied. "My ribs are ticklish."

"Shall we test that?" Before she could figure out what he was doing, his fingers were attacking her ribs and she was laughing almost painfully against her will, wriggling to get away.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Fred! Fred, seriously! Stop! This isn't fair!"

He laughed and took mercy on her.

"There's something," Hermione said once she'd caught her breath, "I don't _like_ to be tickled."

He contradicted this with a shake of his head. "In the right circumstances, everyone likes to be tickled."

She would have liked to disagree with this statement, but feared that Fred would take it upon himself to convince her otherwise.

She wondered if this meant that he enjoyed having the back of his knees tickled. That would be rather strange though, wouldn't it?

She didn't have long to dwell on this as he was then brushing the hair away from her face and smiling at her as he whispered, "Don't think too much," before kissing her yet again.

His tongue swept out along her bottom lip in an unspoken question and in response Hermione parted her lips softly and granted him access. It was a strange sort of unfamiliarity to her at first, something she had once thought she'd never get used to when kissing someone. However, with Fred she found herself quickly becoming more accustomed to it and it wasn't so strange anymore as it was enjoyable.

One of his hands began to skim up and down along her side and her own tongue met his gently and timidly. She was beginning to feel warm all over in the best way possible.

He kissed down the column of her neck and pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, thumbs stroking over the warm skin of her tummy.

There was a pause in Hermione's responsive actions at this new contact. "Don't think," he said again.

She took a deep breath and relaxed as she let it out, pushing all thoughts to the back of her mind. She slid her hands under his t-shirt and felt the hardened muscles of his abdomen beneath her fingertips. She blushed at that. Her husband was fit.

She roamed the muscles of his back. He withheld a groan. It wasn't something he had mentioned, but he loved the feeling of her hands on his back.

Fred was all too disappointed when he felt her touch leave him a moment later. Before he could even think to do something about it though, she was pulling the bottom of his shirt up to his chest.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

Wordlessly, Fred grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed it to the end of the bed and resumed kissing the beautiful witch beneath him.

She began tugging him closer to her then, her hands on his back and shoulders drawing him down towards her.

He easily complied to her wishes, closing the distance between them. When he then felt her hands pushing at his chest, he thought maybe he'd read her previous actions all wrong.

He rolled off of her and was more than a little surprised when she followed him, her leg coming to rest between his and her chest against his own as her lips worked softly on his neck and her hand went into his hair.

Fred let out a low groan as Hermione's lips lingered on his adam's apple.

"How…how am I doing?" she asked. "Is this okay?"

Fred couldn't believe that she had any doubt. "Don't ask," he said. "You're doing brilliantly."

She smiled shyly at that and her cheeks warmed further.

He smirked at her and then placed a large hand at the back of her neck and pulled her down for an, for lack of a better word, electrifying kiss. She felt the shiver run through her, straight down to the tips of her toes.

In a suddenly bold and instinctual move, Hermione pressed close against him, almost experimentally.

Fred broke away from her, his breath coming out ragged and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"We should stop," he told her.

She froze. "Did I do something—"

"You're kidding me." He ran a hand through his hair. "Does it look like you did anything wrong?" He gestured downwards and watched as her eyes followed to his waistband, as she realized his point.

"Oh," she said. Was it wrong of her to feel pride at getting such a reaction from him?

He chuckled at her expression. "A bloke's only got so much self-control."

Hermione's smile was almost involuntary, but there nonetheless. He grinned at her. "You have no idea Miss Granger, do you?"

She had nothing to say to that. Rather, she just lay back down and let out a soft sigh. A moment later she had found herself more words. "I...I also like the way you kiss me," she said.

"What was that?" Fred asked.

At first she wanted to just say nothing, to turn on her side to hide her embarrassment and simply tell him she hadn't said a word. But this was Fred. He was her husband.

"I said," she began again, " I quite like the way you kiss me as well."

"I thought that's what I'd heard," he mused. She hit his arm lightly. He laughed. "You're quite kissable," he added.

"I've never been called that before," she told him thoughtfully.

He smirked. "Then you haven't been kissing the right blokes."

Or any blokes, Hermione wanted to say. Really, she could count the number of lip to lip contact experiences she'd had on one hand.

Victor Krum had given her her first real, albeit a tad sloppy, kiss in fourth year. Seamus Finnigan had been dared to kiss her in sixth year, she'd had no say in the matter when he'd marched up to her and planted his lips on hers with no warning. And then there was the kiss she and Ron had shared during the final battle, one she wouldn't forget if only for the brief romance she had felt in the moment.

"Apparently not," she agreed.

They fell silent, the sound of Fred settling and getting comfortable being the only sound.

"You know," she said, "this was all supposed to be very awkward and very uncomfortable and very...ungraceful."

Fred folded his hands atop his chest as he lay on his back. "And you're saying it isn't all of those things?" he asked.

"Oh no," she laughed, "that's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just saying that it isn't _very_ uncomfortable, awkward and ungraceful. Not as much as I thought it would be."

"True, though I can't make any promises for Saturday evening to be the same."

Hermione nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to."

"Hermione?"

"Fred?"

They both spoke at the same time.

"You first," Fred told her quickly.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." He opened his mouth to say something but she ploughed on hurriedly. "Before you say that I shouldn't be apologizing, just hear me out. I think this one constitutes as being called for. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting about this whole thing. I know I haven't exactly been helpful throughout this. I hope you know that my attitude had nothing to do with you. You're an amazing man and I'm lucky to have been paired with you. Honestly."

"Well, thanks," Fred said, taken aback. "And, I won't hold it against you," he dismissed. "The situation is shite. I'm glad I was paired with you."

"And I bet this is how you pictured your wedding night," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Hermione."

"I kept telling myself what would happen tonight," she said, "and I thought I was...prepared?" She frowned as it came out as a question. Perhaps that's what it was. "I...does it bother you? I mean, does it matter to you that I haven't..."

"Hermione," Fred began patiently, his voice taking on a secret sort of playful, "fear of a word only increases fear—"

"Had sex," she interrupted, never one to back down.

"So, it matters?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Of course it matters."

"Oh."

"It matters to you, doesn't it?"

She considered this. "Yes," she replied carefully.

"Then it matters." He studied her intently. "Hermione, don't feel uncomfortable abou—"

"I'm not," she whispered.

He could hear the worry in her voice. "Hey," he waited to meet her eyes. "We've got until Saturday. I promise I'll try my damnedest to make it comfortable for you."

"Okay," she said softly.

The worry was still there. He heard it as it shook her quiet voice a little and it made him want to reach out and touch her. A tangible reassurance of sorts.

He couldn't bring himself to carry out the action, settling for words instead.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Disappointed by what?" He waited for an answer in her silence.

"The fact that I'm…inexperienced," she told him.

He shook his head. "Not at all. It's a bit of extra pressure maybe, but I wouldn't say I'm disappointed, no."

"Would you have been disappointed if I was?" Hermione asked curiously, her voice a tad stronger now, though still quiet in the dim room.

"No." He paused. "Maybe a little."

"Oh?"

"I wouldn't want to think of you with anyone else," he told her, as though it was obvious. "You're my wife."

"Oh." She thought about this. Then she thought about it some more. And then she thought about Fred. Her face burned. "Fred, just how many…how many…never mind. I'm sorry. It's none of my business really."

Fred allowed himself a small smile and turned onto his side to face her. "You can ask the question, Hermione."

"Okay." She tried to control her voice, taking a steadying breath. "How many girls have you been with?"

"Two," he said.

"Oh. Two," Hermione repeated. In all honesty, she thought the number would have been higher, so it was a bit of a relief. However, it still made her uneasy. There were two other girls her husband had been with. Girls Hermione probably met at one point or another. She completely understood what he said now. She didn't like the thought.

It didn't matter that they had only had their first kiss mere hours ago, at an alter, and were then informed of the requirements to the marriage they were to be a part of without choice. He was still her husband. She believed she now had a right to want him to herself.

Not that she wanted Fred.

Just that she didn't want him with other women. Not while they were married.

And she didn't like thinking of him with other girls from before they were married either.

That was understandable, wasn't it?

She wanted to ask who the two girls were but she decided against it. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer anyway.

"What is it?" Fred asked her.

She must have appeared to be deep in thought then. He was watching her inquisitively.

"It isn't fair."

"You mean..." Fred naturally assumed she meant their nuptials but something about her expression told him that wasn't it. "What isn't fair?"

"You've been with two other people. I've been with zero."

"And?"

"It's not fair. You know what you're doing, I won't have a clue."

"You'll be a natural," he told her.

"How do you know?"

Fred shrugged. "You're a natural at everything."

"Not quidditch."

"Well, it's not much like quidditch."

She sighed. "You were going to say something earlier. I completely interrupted."

When he realized that she was right, he had been meaning to say something, he nodded. "I meant to ask what your schedule was like this week."

"I took tomorrow as a day off," she told him. "Thought I might need a day to settle in and sort things out. I'm back to work from Monday morning though. I usually work from eight until about four or five. Why?"

"Well, George told me not to worry about being in the shop tomorrow," Fred explained, "and the rest of the week is pretty flexible, so I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go house hunting at some point?"

"House hunting?" she repeated, sounding rather confused. "For...us?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong with here?" she asked.

"Nothing," Fred told her. "But I never really thought of it as a place to house a married couple. It's above a joke shop. And...it doesn't seem fit to raise a child in. Besides, I thought we might find a place that will be just as much yours as it is mine." He paused. "Not that you can't make yourself at home here," he added.

"Just that—"

"No, I understand," Hermione cut in. "I assumed you wanted to stay close to work is all."

He chuckled. "I'm a wizard. Anywhere is just a wand wave or floo trip away really. If you'd rather stay here though...for the time being, I don't see anything wrong with that."

"I'd like to go house hunting with you," she agreed.

"We can even go this week if you'd like, but I don't see any rush in finding another place. You and George did a lovely job here."

Fred chuckled. "Thanks. Ginny helped a bit."

"I think we need to get accustomed to living with each other before we go moving somewhere else, don't you think?" she suggested.

"Also, we need to figure out what we can afford," she said. "I have some savings from quite a few birthdays and holidays and summer jobs and my parents had left me money for whatever endeavors I took on after Hogwarts. In case I went into muggle post secondary schooling."

Fred nodded. "Always a step ahead," he commented.

"George and I used some of our inheritance to pay Harry the last of what he loaned us but I haven't spent the rest of my half and I have a good amount of savings as well."

"Inheritance from whom?" Hermione inquired.

"Our uncles," he replied. "You've heard about my mum's brothers? Fabian and Gideon Prewett?" Hermione nodded. "Well, George and I were about three when they died. During the war though, when everything was really beginning, they were among the many people who thought they best plan for the worst. They wrote for everything, literally everything, to go to the two infant troublemakers their little sister had recently had."

Hermione smiled. "Do you remember them?" she asked.

"Vaguely," Fred replied. "I remember them doing magic to entertain us while everyone else discussed things Bill and Charlie said we couldn't listen in on. Uncle Fabian had a green handkerchief that Uncle Gideon turned into about fifty different things he had whizzing about the room. Can't for the life of me tell you what they were though.

"Anyway, they left George and I everything they had, but we could only access it when we turned twenty. Mum reckons they wanted to make sure we didn't skip out of school with it, or use it in any way we'd regret."

"Understandable."

"Mum asked us not to mention it to the others though," Fred told her. "She didn't want any sort of bad feelings over it. I don't think that you would but—"

"I won't mention it," Hermione assured. "No worries."

"Thanks." There was a pause. "So, er, I mean, I know this isn't how you planned any of it, but where did you think you'd live when you...got married and started a family?"

Hermione considered this. "I hadn't really gotten that far," she admitted. "I suppose...I don't know."

"You...never thought about it?" Fred asked warily.

"It's not that I haven't considered it," she said. "I just always assumed I'd be sorting out those details much later, you know?"

"Marriage, you mean?"

"And having a family," she added. "I thought I would get a job and work for a few years, something steady and stable. I would work my way up the system a bit and then start to worry about settling down with someone. Another year or so before we'd think about children. I imagined myself to live in a flat until then, comfortable for just myself."

"Oh. But you did want a family?" he questioned.

"Eventually," she agreed.

"Quite a long plan."

"It's how my parents did it," Hermione defended.

"I didn't say there's anything wrong with it," he said quickly.

"I just think that to have a family, ideally you should prepare. A stable relationship, a stable job...household."

He nodded his agreement.

"What about you?" she returned. "Were you...planning on a family?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, Hermione, always."

She swallowed thickly. "How many kids?" she managed.

He shook his head at her. "Honestly? At least two."

She let out a soft breath.

"Why?" he asked. "What was your ideal?"

"I always pictured two little ones," she replied. "Maybe three. I assumed you wanted a Weasley brood of your own."

He laughed. "I can't imagine trying to do what Mum and Dad did," he said. "While I've always known I wanted kids, I've also known that I don't want that many. Not that I don't love my brothers and Ginny, but growing up was always crowded and hectic and there was never enough privacy. Our parents spent so much time trying to make sure everyone was taken care of that they hadn't ever much energy to just relax with us. Even then, their attention was always split between at least four other children." He sighed. "They are great parents and they raised a great family, if I do say so myself, but I just don't think I could or would want to do that."

"I don't think I could, either," Hermione said. "Your mum is one incredibly strong woman."

He nodded. "And you?" he asked. "What was it like being an only child?"

"Lonely," she told him, the answer instant. "I mean, I remember wishing I had siblings almost every day when I was little. I wanted a permanent best friend, one that would be with me through everything.

"I never made friends easily in school. They said I was more mature than the other kids and that it wasn't anything wrong with me, or anything wrong with the other children, it was just that we couldn't quite understand each other yet." She laughed. "I thought that what I needed was a brother or sister to understand me."

Fred thought of George.

"Anyway, in some ways I liked being an only child though," she went on. "My parents never ran out of time for me and there wasn't anyone I had to compete with for anything. I never had to share. I always had plenty of space to myself and time to myself when I wanted. It suited me well."

He could picture a little, bushy haired, button nosed Hermione sitting in a child's bedroom, reading to herself. It was an endearing image. He grinned.

"Can I tell you that I'm already looking forward to being someone's dad?" he asked.

He watched her eyes flick down to her stomach in worry and he immediately thought he'd said the wrong thing.

"I've...I've always thought that I was meant to be somebody's mum," she said.

He smiled.

She yawned tiredly and snuggled deeper into the sheets. He took this as his cue.

"We should probably get some sleep," he said. "It's been a long...week."

"Mhm," she hummed.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?"

"I should warn you now that I'm a cuddler," Fred said. "Both consciously and subconsciously speaking."

She blushed and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I won't object to being cuddled."

He smiled, leaned over, gave her a sweet kiss goodnight and slipped his arm across her waist. Hermione told herself to stay still and go to sleep but she was having trouble fighting the urge to wriggle and roll a bit to get comfortable. Lying on her back, she knew she would never fall asleep in the position she was in.

She shifted just slightly, not wanting to alert Fred to her discomfort, and tried to better the situation.

She felt him chuckle beside her before he lifted his arm and told her to get comfortable.

She apologized quietly and he shushed her. She turned on her side and curled her legs, settling comfortably.

When she stopped moving Fred returned his arm to her waist and spooned in behind her, his front against her back and moulding to her form. "This alright?" he asked.

"Mhm," she agreed, and she meant it. There was something very safe and secure and overall soothing about being tucked so closely to him. His arms were lean around her, but solid and strong and his body, significantly longer than her own, fit nicely against hers. She could feel herself drifting off in the embrace.

"Do you like pancakes?"

Hermione was only half aware that the question was being asked in reality as she replied, "Everybody likes pancakes."

"Good answer. I'm making breakfast tomorrow then."

"You don't have to—"

"Goodnight."

She yawned yet again.

"M'night."

**Author's Note: thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm in a cottage at the moment so I couldn't reply to them **

**But they we're great to read. Thank you!**

**Please review they make me happy and I'm in such a crap mood. Pretty please?**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	3. The First Day

True to his word, Fred was up and out of bed early the next morning. Hermione woke up to hear him alternating from singing and humming. She heard the melody stop a moment later as he began a play by play of his pancake endeavors.

"Weasley lifts the edge of the pancake... he sees it a golden brown...he wiggles the pan, getting ready to go for it and he...flips the pancake! He is four for six this morning ladies and gentlemen and doing brilliantly."

She smiled to herself at his silliness and then flipped down the sheets and left the bed. She plaited her hair, knowing it was a mess without having to so much as glance in a mirror, and then walked out of the bedroom.

Fred gave her a quick smile and good morning over his shoulder as he grabbed plates from the cupboards. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as her body adjusted to the temperature outside of the warm sheets she'd abandoned. "I did, thanks. You?"

"Yeah," he replied. It was an understatement, he knew. He hadn't slept that well in quite some time, which probably attributed to his rather chipper mood for an early morning. He hadn't wanted to leave his bed that morning, perfectly content and comfy where he was. It was only the knowledge of Hermione being an early riser, and his own stomach's pleading that he had rolled himself out of the room and into the kitchen.

He put the plates on the small table and Hermione came over, asking where the glasses were and what else she could do to help. He gave her a quick tour about the kitchen and where everything was kept.

She got the glasses and the pumpkin juice while Fred put two pancakes on each plate and then a small stack between them. After placing the syrup on the table, he took his seat and waited for Hermione to sit as well.

"I put banana in some of the pancakes," Fred explained. "I don't know if you like bananas but I think it tastes pretty good."

Hermione nodded. "I'll try them."

"If you don't like them the plain ones are here." He gestured to the stack between them.

"Thanks for making breakfast," she said.

"No problem," he told her sincerely. He poured syrup over his pancakes and then handed the confectionary to Hermione.

He watched as she poured a decent amount in a ring around the pancakes and then set about cutting the pancakes into neat and precise sixths. She looked up as she felt his eyes on her.

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I—"

"No apologies," he reminded.

She laughed lightly. "My mum used to plate my pancakes this way," she explained, forking one of the sixths, dipping it into the syrup and then eating it.

"This is delicious," she complimented.

"Thanks," he said. "George and I went through about six months when every Friday or Saturday morning we'd make pancakes and try putting different things in them. We took turns, too, so the other wouldn't know what they were going to bite into until after they'd done it."

Hermione shook her head with a laugh. "Suppose the day before you were careful to stay on each other's good side then."

He folded about a quarter of a pancake into his mouth and nodded.

When he had chewed and swallowed he spoke. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"I need to go by my parents' house." She bit her lip. "I still have some of my things there."

Fred looked down at his plate, the sympathy gripping him tightly. He felt guilty too, at the thought that his parents were there to attend their wedding, small and unprecedented as it was, and her parents didn't even know she existed. They were in Australia walking about without any knowledge of the life they once lived with their daughter who went off to help save the world. She may not have lost her parents to death as so many others had during the war, but rather she lost them by her own wandwork, wiping their memories to keep them safe and happy. Without her.

"Can I come with you, then?" he asked carefully.

She looked up in surprise. "Um...I mean...you don't have to." She returned her gaze to her lap.

"I'd like to," he added, "if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," she said softly. "So long as you haven't anything else to do for the morning."

"Nothing at all," Fred assured. He checked the time on the clock above the mantle. "What time did you want to leave at?"

She glanced at the time as well. "Nine?" she supplied.

"Sure," he agreed.

The rest of breakfast passed in relative silence. Hermione cleared the dishes, insisting it was only fair as Fred had cooked and then they went into separate bedrooms to dress.

Hermione opened her suitcase and surveyed its contents. She had only packed what she had been keeping at the burrow. This meant that her wardrobe mostly consisted of spring and summer clothes and was horribly lacking in warm jumpers for the nippy October weather.

She dressed in jeans and a purple blouse, cursing England's dismal weather.

She met Fred by the door.

He eyed her apprehensively. "Hermione, not that you don't look nice, but won't you get cold?" he asked.

She sighed. "Jumpers are still at my parents' place," she told him. "I'll be fine until then."

Fred immediately kicked off the one shoe he had put on and disappeared into his bedroom. He returned with a grey cardigan slung on his arm. He tossed it to her and she caught it in an uncoordinated bundle. "There you go," he said. "Ready?"

Hermione slid her arms through the wide wool sleeves of the sweater and buttoned it up. It was soft and hung down too long on her smaller form but it was completely suitable for the purpose of keeping her warm and for that she was grateful.

"Yes," she said. "And thanks."

They left the flat and walked the narrow steps to the shop floor. He held the door and led her outside.

"So," he said, "where is it we're going?"

"I can apparate us there," she said, pulling her wand from her pocket, "but I put wards up around the property so we'll have to walk a bit still."

He nodded and then accepted her proffered arm. He felt the sharp tug behind his midsection and in the next instant found himself in a completely different setting, in a forest of trees being slowly undressed of their leaves and dirt of a beaten down path beneath his shoes.

"Wouldn't want anyone to see us appear out of thin air," Hermione explained. "It should be..." She carefully found her way over logs and fallen branches to a tall tree with long and thick roots. She inspected the trunk closely and traced her fingers over the carving she'd done as an eleven year old girl. "This way," she said finally, turning on her heel and marching straight away from the tree.

Fred followed after her, watching the ground ahead of her. The tree roots stretched far and crossed the path intermittently, but Hermione seemed to know them well enough to measure her steps accordingly and Fred's readiness to steady her lest she fall was in vain. Rather, it was Hermione who walked ahead of him and called precautions back over her shoulder, warning him of the stump into which he nearly strode.

He picked her hand up in his as they reached the edge of the forest and stepped out to the sidewalk. He felt more than saw her cast him a sidelong glance but she laced her fingers through his and walked along as though nothing was different.

It was in less than two minutes later that they were standing in front of a white house with a pale blue door, black shingles on the roof and flower boxes under each window sill. All but one slowly wilting pink flower planted at the front window was dead.

Hermione inconspicuously drew her wand, taking her hand from his, and began to lower the wards. Fred waited patiently.

She tucked her wand away once she'd finished and then walked up the steps and to the door. Fred expected there to be many more spells to unlocking the door itself and was therefore surprised to see her withdraw a simple enough looking key from her pocket. It glowed when she put it in the keyhole and he quickly realized he had underestimated the small object.

When she walked into the house she didn't say a word, nor give him any direction. She focused on her feet and walked straight upstairs. Fred trailed after her, noting that there were no photographs about the house.

They entered her bedroom and she immediately set to work. There was no nostalgic pause nor forlorn sigh, she merely swept the fair amount of space with her eyes and then conjured a box, took it into the closet with her and began to sort through her belongings.

The double bed was bare of sheets and, though a comforter was laid nicely on it, the top folded down to show the quilted mattress beneath two undressed pillows. Fred eyed the pale purple walls curiously. There was nothing on them, no mirrors, no pictures, no posters. He wondered if they had always been that way or if she had taken things down.

"Is this all you've ever kept here?" Fred asked conversationally.

Her distant reply of, "Pardon?" had him repeating his question.

"This is everything," she said, stepping out of the closet so he could hear her clearly, "except for the clothes I had at the Burrow, now at your place, and my books."

Fred's head tilted inquisitively at that. "Where are your books?" he asked. "I had expected at least a trunk or two."

"Oh." Hermione blushed. "Harry let me keep them at Grimmauld place. It's probably why this room seems so empty now. I kept all of them in here. Aside from that, I suppose I'm just a minimalist."

Fred nodded. "So, what can I do?"

She gestured at the chest of drawers. "If you could put everything in there into a box for me, that would be great, thanks." She disappeared back into the closet.

He nodded and opened the third drawer. He smirked. "Hermione?" he asked. "Any drawers you'd rather I didn't go through?"

"Any drawers..." she murmured to herself. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Fred!" Her face flamed. "Yes, if you could refrain from going through THOSE things it would be much appreciated."

He chuckled. "Alright."

She shook her head and continued through her things, separating things she knew would be of no use to her anymore. She tried not to think about where she had gotten everything. The gifts from her parents, the old Hogwarts uniforms and small mementos. She sorted through most of it as though she didn't recognize a thing, as though the objects weren't her own. She was doing just fine until she got to her jewelery box.

Fred finished with her chest of drawers, everything he was permitted to sort out, and then he packed up the box and pushed it closer to the door. "What else can I do?" he asked.

He didn't receive an immediate reply and so he strode over to the doorframe of the closet and stuck his head around it. "Hermione?" he asked. "Is there anything else I can—Hermione, are you alright?"

She nodded, but her chin was tucked to her chest and her eyes were shut tight as she held a gold chain in her fist. She felt as though there was no oxygen. She couldn't breathe.

"Oh." Fred's eyes widened and his long legs stepped over the boxes to get to her. He wrapped her in his arms, cradling the back of her head and tucking her into the embrace. As he said her name softly her lungs came back to life and her throat opened up, letting out a sob.

He let her cry, his hand running up and down her back as she shook and fought to compose herself. "Hey," he said, "it's gonna be alright. It's alright."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hiccoughing.

"What did we say about apologies," he reminded.

She pulled away from him and pocketed the gold chain, and the small ring strung on it reading 'daughter'. His hands cupped either side of her face and tilted it up to look at him. His thumbs swiped over her wet cheeks, wiping away the trails of her tears. He offered her a small smile. "Would you rather leave the rest for another day?" he asked. "Or I can finish packing everything up and bring it all back to the flat, if you like."

She shook her head. "Thank you. But I'm fine, really. I can handle this. It's just a box or so more." She paused. "I think I'll leave the rest of the house a while longer though. Just in case for whatever reason...well." She looked down and Fred took the opportunity to kiss the top of her head.

"What else can I do?" he asked.

**Author's Note: hi! Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. They mean so much to me and if I wasn't working off of my phone I would reply to each one. I really love hearing from all of you. Thank you so much. I hope you liked this. **

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett **


	4. The First Date

After unpacking her things into the second room, Hermione and Fred were at a bit of a loss as to what to do. By that point it was late afternoon. Hermione went through the cupboards until she found fixings for pasta and she whipped up a late lunch for three people, telling Fred he should invite George up for lunch.

Fred went down to the shop and spotted Verity behind the counter. "Hey," he said, "where's George?"

"Back room," she replied. She asked the next customer to step forward and began ringing up their purchase.

"Have you had lunch yet?" Fred asked her.

"About an hour ago," she told him. "George hasn't breaked since morning, though."

Fred saw humour in that he often did the same thing when George wasn't at work. They worked doubly as hard when the other wasn't there and snacked throughout the day rather than stopping to take a proper lunch break.

"Alright." He nodded and began to head to the back.

"Oh, congratulations!" Verity called after him as he headed into the back.

"Thanks," he said. He slipped through the open door into the wide storage/experimental space. "Georgie," he greeted with a grin. "Are you hungry?"

George turned from the workbench and clapped his brother's arm affectionately. "Hey, Forge, I missed you."

Fred laughed.

"I was going to stop by this morning," George continued. "Didn't think your wife would appreciate it much though."

Fred had to admit that the sound of 'his wife' was still very foreign to his ears. Hermione. His wife, Hermione. It was strange. Hermione Weasley? They'd never discussed it; he wondered if she planned to take his surname.

"So, how was last night?" George asked impishly. He caught the look on his twin's face and his expression drew together in concern. "What happened?"

Fred held up his left hand with the still shining silver band.

"What happened?" George repeated. "Fred, the ministry—"

"Gave us forty-eight hours," Fred finished easily. "We have until late tomorrow."

George turned on his stool to face his brother. "Why put it off?" he inquired carefully.

Fred sighed. "She's nervous," he phrased.

His brother raised an eyebrow. "Nervous," he repeated.

Fred nodded, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Yeah. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of nervous as well." George looked confused. "It's Hermione," Fred elaborated. "I...she just...it's intimidating."

George laughed then. "Freddie," he said, "don't tell me you're scared of your wife."

"Not scared," Fred protested firmly. "But, you know, I want to do everything...right with her." He sighed. He sounded like a fourteen year old schoolboy

George spun back to the boxes he was marking and scribbled a note on one of them. "Good luck with that," he said. "Where is the missus anyway?"

Fred shook his head. "Hermione's upstairs making lunch. She wanted to know if you'd join us."

George looked down at his stomach and then glanced at his watch. "Yeah," he agreed, "okay. I could eat."

"Pasta should be done in a few minutes," Fred told him.

"Mm." George smiled. "I think she's already my favourite."

"Favourite?"

"Sister-in-law."

George pushed the boxes away and hopped off of the stool, heading out of the room and up the stairs.

Hermione was nearly finished with the meal when they came in through the door. Fred and George set the table as Hermione pulled the pot off of the stove and filled several bowls. She set them down on the table and took a seat.

"So, how's your day been, George?" she asked.

As they began to eat, he told them about product testing and the rambunctious kids that had come through the shop. He had a tale about a regular, a twelve year old boy who had been coming in every other day begging and pleading to have a job in the shop. The boy had accidentally knocked over the whizbangs display and had screamed bloody murder, ducking for cover when just one went off.

When they had finished George thanked Hermione and excused himself back to the shop to go help Verity, leaving Fred and Hermione alone.

They cleared the table and Fred set the dishes to wash. He poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and offered one to her as well, raising the pitcher towards her expectantly.

"Yes, please," Hermione accepted.

His hand brushed hers as he passed her a glass and she very nearly dropped it as she pulled her hand back. "Thanks." She sipped the cool liquid and tried to quell her burning cheeks, mentally chastising herself.

"So," Fred said. "Do you want to go out for dinner?"

Hermione looked up in confusion. "We just ate lunch," she said. "It's three o'clock."

"Not now," Fred told her. "Later. Just...a proper date."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," she said. "Sure. Nothing too fancy though. I don't have anything suitable to wear."

He chuckled. "Alright, Hermione. You can pick where we go. Seven...eight o'clock?" he suggested.

"Seven thirty," she decided. She finished her drink, placed the empty glass in the sink along with the other dishes, and then disappeared to her room.

Fred waited a moment, wondering if she was coming back out or if this meant he wasn't going to see her until seven thirty. He hoped it wasn't the latter.

After a minute or two of waiting, Fred resigned himself to the couch. He fell back into the plush furniture, leaning back against the cushioned arm and stretching his legs out across the length of it. He closed his eyes and decided it was a good time for a nap.

"Fred?"

He cracked an eye open to see her standing a few feet from him, book in hand. "Hermione?" he whispered back.

"Sorry," she apologized. "You were napping. I'll just leave you."

"Hermione," he said. "What're you doing?" There was a teasing tone to his voice that had her blushing.

"I was going to read," she admitted. "I was...hoping I could join you."

Fred grinned and dropped one leg from the couch and opened his arms. "Then join me," he told her.

She stared at him a moment, biting her lip. He raised an eyebrow at her expectantly. "Come on, Hermione," he beckoned. "I'm comfy. I promise."

She laughed and carefully sat. Her legs stretched out alongside his, incredibly short in comparison, not quite touching him. She began to lean sideways to the back of the couch when his arms snaked out around her and pulled her back against him. She shrieked and he laughed before he got a face full of her unruly hair.

She apologized and swept her hair to one side for him. He folded his arms across her stomach and brought his leg back onto the couch, his ankle crossing over her own. "S'alright," he said. He chuckled. "It smells delicious."

She laughed as she relaxed against him. "Thank you. Scented shampoo."

Fred inhaled the scent and his arm tightened around her before they both relaxed. Hermione opened her book and began to read. "Hey, Fred," she began, "you don't mind if we go somewhere muggle tonight, do you?" Her neck twisted to look at him.

"No not at all," he replied.

"Okay." She returned to her reading.

It was nice, Fred decided, the feeling of holding her there against him and watching her at complete peace, entirely absorbed in her novel. It was like watching her in her natural habitat. For the first time since she had stepped foot into the flat, she looked genuinely at home. He liked that.

After a while Hermione offered to get him a book as well but he told her he was content just as he was. He then rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. He heard Hermione's soft laugh a moment later, unsure as to whether it was him or her book that amused her.

He dozed off into light sleep vaguely feeling Hermione's fingers in his hair as she absentmindedly began to comb them through his soft ginger locks. She seemed to catch herself, realizing what she had been doing as she went to turn her page and there was pause as she froze. He became slightly more alert at the loss of pattern.

There was a slight hesitation when her hand returned to his hair a moment later. He couldn't help his smile nor could he fight the impulse to kiss her as he pressed his lips to her neck.

She startled. "You're awake," she accused.

"I am," he agreed. He kissed just under her ear this time and she blushed. He smirked and his teeth grazed over her earlobe. Her mouth formed an 'o' as she drew in a breath and he chuckled, taking her book from her hands, surprised she let him. He placed it face down on the back of the couch. His hands urged her to turn around and she did, twisting to kiss his lips before turning over fully, her legs untangling from his briefly only to entangle themselves once more.

She kissed the corner of his mouth and just as he moved to capture her lips they evaded him. She trailed a path down his neck, lingering on his adam's apple before traveling back up to his ear. As she kissed the shell of his ear and did just as he had, lightly pulling his earlobe between her teeth, her hands slid beneath his jumper. Her fingers traced the outlines of the muscles beneath his warm skin. Wanting to feel more of him, her hands splayed flat on his taut skin and her lips found his and kissed him soundly.

One of his hands slipped under her shirt and slid over the smooth, soft skin of her back. His other hand buried into her hair and cradled the back of her head, keeping her just where she was as his tongue delved into her mouth.

She could feel herself melting away, farther and farther from her inhibitions even as his hand came round to her tummy. Her hands threaded through his hair as she sighed into his embrace and surrendered herself to being a pile of goo in his arms. He kissed the tip of her nose and she laughed.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"Getting to know each other," Fred replied.

"You took my book," she said. Her full, now slightly swollen, lips formed a pout.

He kissed it away.

She glanced at the time. "I'm going to go shower," she told him.

He reluctantly released her and offered a steadying hand as she carefully extricated herself from the couch before letting her know he was going to pop downstairs and help George get ready to close shop. She gathered her towel and toiletries from her bedroom and padded out to the loo.

Fred glanced up at her as he opened the door to leave. "You know, you can leave all of that stuff in the bathroom," he told her. "I don't mind. I mean...stay awhile," he said.

She looked down at her towel and then at her razor, deodorant and hair products, all zipped away in her toiletry bag. She began to shake her head. "It's fine," she said. "I have a lot stuff. It'll take up a lot of space and—"

Fred rolled his eyes. "We're trying to get comfortable living together," he said. "So, you should unpack. Everything. Move in, alright? I...I want you feel at home here."

Hermione smiled sincerely at that and nodded. "Okay," she agreed, knowing he was right. "You take some time with George then. I'll shower and unpack before I get ready. Dinner at seven thirty, right?"

"Dinner at seven thirty," Fred confirmed.

The restaurant was quaint. It had small tables and a long bar and was lit to a dim glow for the evening diners. The sign above the door simply read 'Italian Bistro' and the inside fit that description quite well.

"So, what do we talk about?" Hermione asked.

"Whatever you'd like."

She looked about the space as though an idea would float by. The waiter delivered their drinks. "Tell me...tell me a secret," she said. "Tell me something you've never told anyone." She paused. "With the exception of George," she added with a smile.

Fred considered this. "What kind of secret?" he asked.

"Any secret. Here, I'll go first." She sat up taller in her seat. "When I was younger, I shut all the closets before I went to sleep and checked behind shower curtains for monsters. And now I'm nearly twenty years old and I still do it."

Fred grinned at her. She was scared of monsters in her closet. The same girl who fought a war and took on deatheaters was still worried about what lurked in behind curtains and wardrobes.

"Your turn."

Fred took a moment to think of something suitable before he began. "When George and I first moved into our flat," he admitted, "we continued to share the one bedroom for three months because we missed each other."

"That's sweet," Hermione said her smile sincere and wide at the confession. She hummed thoughtfully. "Okay. When I was six, I really hated putting my clean laundry away, so I'd fold it all up and stuff it under my bed."

"You'd fold it?" Fred asked.

"I liked folding," she said.

He laughed. "Alright. This one time Percy was getting on my nerves and he called George and I useless so we spent the week plotting and then before we all left for school, we snuck into his room the night before and took his pants out of his trunk." His eyes took on their typical mischievous gleam. "I don't know what was funnier, the way Percy reacted when he thought he'd forgotten to pack them or the look on his face when mum and dad sent them by owl at breakfast."

Hermione couldn't help her laughter as she pictured the boy's face herself. Percy would have been livid if he'd found out.

"I had this teacher once, before Hogwarts," she began. And they went on and on all throughout their dinner and the dessert they shared afterward. They told funny stories back and forth until Fred had what felt like a permanent stitch in his side and Hermione's cheeks ached from laughter and smiles.

They returned home that evening with full stomachs and wide smiles.

"I have...the greatest newfound respect for you and George," Hermione said. "You two are beyond brilliant."

"Thanks," Fred grinned, "I'll be sure to tell him you said that. Means a lot coming from you."

She blushed. "I'm...I'm going to get ready for bed."

He nodded and they disappeared to their separate bedrooms. "Fred?" she called, just as he was about to close the door behind him.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning back to see her.

Hermione swallowed her nerves. "Where—where am I sleeping tonight?" she asked.

He lifted a shoulder. "You're welcome wherever you'd like," he told her. "Wherever you're comfortable." And he left it at that.

She shed her blouse and jeans and changed into her pyjamas quickly. After brushing her teeth and washing her face she returned to her own bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. She'd slept in his room the night before, tomorrow she'd be doing a little more than simply sleeping in his room. She may as well, right?

"Right," she whispered.

Fred cursed at himself. He should have just asked her to join him, he thought. He was such an idiot. He heard the door to the loo open and he waited and sighed dejectedly as he heard her bedroom door click shut.

"Well." He turned down the bedding and got under the covers, keeping to the left in case she changed her mind. Under no circumstances would he ever admit it, but his heart jumped in his chest the moment he heard her soft yet solid knock at the open door.

"You don't need to knock, Hermione," he told her.

She came round the bed and, without the unnecessary questions he expected from her, she crawled into the sheets and curled up with her feet brushing his shin.

"Your feet are freezing," he commented.

She gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry." She made to move away when he trapped her feet between his calves.

"Better?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and wrapped an arm across his waist, pulling herself closer. "I had a really great time tonight, Fred," she whispered in the darkness. "Thank you."

"I'm glad." He kissed the top of her head. "That was the best date I've had...ever."

She sighed and breathed in his warm scent. "Me, too," she replied.

Her chin tilted to smile up at him and he met her slightly parted lips with his own. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said, lips ghosting over her own.

"Goodnight, Fred," she returned.

Fred brushed a curl away from her face and smiled fondly. He watched her dark curling lashes come to rest on her pale cheeks and her smile soften to faint traces as her breathing evened out.

"I think this could work," he whispered. "Actually. Brilliantly."

**Author's Note: Wow you lovely, lovely people, you. You make me so happy. I hope you realize that. Now this story has only panned out to six chapters at this point. But I did say it was a ficlet so while that may change I hope none of you are disappointed. There wasn't a lot of ideas that went into this and I still have Lettie going. This was just written last summer over a week's vacation out of boredom, to see if I could. I really love marriage law fics.**

**At any rate, thank you all so much for reviewing! And if it's not too much to ask, I'm really hoping to get to 40 reviews. Please?**

**Oh and to the reviewer who gave me their feels: thanks. **

**You guys are awesome. **

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	5. The First Family Gathering

There was a tapping at the window. That's what awoke Hermione. She turned to see Fred still fast asleep beside her, one of his arms thrown across her waist. She carefully slipped out from beneath it and tiptoed her way to the window. She recognized the Weasley's owl, Errol, as he hooted just outside the glass. She quickly unlatched the window and let the bird in, wrapping her arms around herself against the frigid morning air. After taking the letter from the owl, and allowing him inside, she firmly shut the window. He hopped forward with a hoot and Hermione shushed him.

"Come on," she whispered. "I think they're owl treats in the kitchen." She grabbed her dressing robe from the end of the bed and draped it over her arm before offering it to Errol for a ride. He jumped lightly onto her robe and she quietly left the room and headed for the kitchen.

She found the owl treats in the top cupboard, fed two to Errol and then told him to sit, rest and be good. She put her robe on and got out a frying pan. It was almost eight o'clock, she figured she'd make breakfast as she was already up.

But first the letter.

She opened it and saw that it was addressed to both her and Fred, inviting them over for lunch at the Burrow, warmly written by Molly. She smiled and left the parchment on the table for Fred to read.

Opening the fridge she pulled out a few eggs. She looked around. There really wasn't much else in the kitchen. There was a container of chicken that Mrs. Weasley had sent over at some point, a head of lettuce, juice, and a jar of jelly. It wasn't exactly breakfast material. She supposed when you were living life as a bachelor, a well-stocked fridge wasn't really required. Hermione sighed.

A market of some sort couldn't be that far away, she mused. If she hurried, she might even be able to find it and be back before Fred woke up.

She got dressed and ready within ten minutes, grabbed her wand and her bag and then decided it would be best to just apparate to a more familiar muggle supermarket. At least until she could ask Fred for directions to groceries.

She jotted a quick note to him to let him know she'd gone out for provisions and would be back momentarily. She instructed Errol to stay put and then left the flat and apparated away.

Fred woke up to the smell of bacon and the sound of someone moving about the kitchen. He could hear the wireless playing, though he couldn't decipher the song.

He got out of bed and left the bedroom, his smile lifting at the sight that greeted him.

"_Who loves you pretty baby? Who's gonna help you through the night? Who loves you pretty mama?_" Hermione was singing along to what he realized wasn't the wireless but a silver something with which he was unfamiliar. Her hips were swinging as she danced from foot to foot and buttered toasted English muffins. "_Who's always there to make it right?_"

He chuckled and she jumped, the muffin in her hand falling to the plate. "You're up," she squeaked, her cheeks going scarlet as she reached for the volume dial to turn the music down.

"I am," he agreed. "What's Errol doing here?" He nodded at the bird perched on the back of one of the chairs.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Your mum—" A timer dinged behind her and she spun around. "Hang on," she said. She made quick work of setting bacon on the English muffins atop the two plates and then she flicked the stove off and brought the plates over. She dipped a spoon into the saucepan she had on the burner and gently and ever so carefully fished out the poached eggs and placed them on top of the bacon.

"Okay," she said slowly as she began to pour the hollandaise sauce over the dishes. She topped each egg with a sprig of parsley. "There," she said, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Fred sent Errol back on his way home, releasing the bird out the window. "Ow!" he exclaimed. Hermione turned. "Bloody bird nipped me," he muttered.

She held back laughter.

"What'd he bring?" he asked. He came over and looked at the two plates.

"Your mum invited us for lunch," Hermione informed. "She says noon."

"Alright." Fred nodded. "Thank you for making breakfast. Sorry I slept in so late."

She glanced at the time and saw it was just about ten. "No apologies," she said. "I...I wasn't sure how you like your eggs, but I went grocery shopping and...well, I made this for Harry and Ron once and they seemed to like it. Eggs Benedict?"

Fred carried the plates to the table while she got glasses and pumpkin juice. "Shite," he said. "I forgot about the groceries. You didn't have to do that." He set the plates down and leaned against the counter. "I didn't think that far ahead. Just sort of—"

"It was no problem," she told him. "Really."

They sat down at the table. "This looks good," he said.

"Um, if you don't like them I can just...scramble or fry some for you," she told him. "I know you're mum usually scrambles them." She lifted her knife and fork and stared at her plate.

Fred laughed. "Yeah, because she's cooking for nearly a dozen people."

They bit into the dishes and Fred hummed. "This is incredible," he said.

Her eyes lit up. "Really?" she asked.

He nodded. "Do you make this often?"

She chewed and swallowed before replying. "It was my mum's favourite, so I practiced a lot over the summers until I...almost perfected it."

"This is perfect," he told her. He'd never had eggs benedict before so he wasn't very clear on how it was supposed to be, but he did know that what he'd just tasted was the best version of eggs he'd ever had.

She sipped from her glass with a smile. "Oh!" she jumped up. "I almost forgot. There's extra bacon."

Fred looked at her in disbelief. "Merlin's beard, Hermione," he said. "Are you trying to charm the pants off of me?"

She froze and he realized a moment too late what he'd said. With a mouth full of eggs benedict he cursed himself. "Hermione, I'm sorry," he said.

She shook her head. There was a beat in which her heart pounded. "Maybe that's exactly what I'm doing," she said finally, a small, albeit nervous, smile gracing her features.

Fred's eyebrows shot up. "Well, you're doing a great job then," he told her.

She brought the plate of bacon to the table and took her seat once again, pushing it toward him.

"About tonight," he began.

She bit her lip. "Fred, I'd really rather not...worry myself over this quite yet," she said.

"Hermione, I don't want you worrying at—"

"Also," she went on, "I don't mean anything by this, but could we take off our rings before we go to the Burrow?" She watched his expression carefully, hoping she wasn't offending him in any way. "Because they're silver," she explained. "I don't want your brothers teasing you or people asking questions. I just think..."

"It would raise less questions if we don't wear them at all?" he asked.

"Questions that are easier to answer," she said. She was staring at the ring in question on her left hand. "I'd rather not explain why we haven't yet...consummated."

Fred nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Remind me before we leave. We'll take them off."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

He paused. "If you'd rather not go," he said, "we don't have to." He reached for a piece of perfectly crisp bacon and broke it, one half going in his mouth and the other on his plate.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I want to go," she said. "Really." She took a bite of her eggs.

Fred decided a change of subject was in order. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the silver machine on the counter that continued to quietly play music.

"Oh. That's a stereo," she told him. "I've got a cassette tape in there. Found them in my room yesterday."

He grinned. "You looked like you were having fun making breakfast," he commented.

Her blush was adorable. "I like cooking to music," she admitted.

"It's cute," he told her.

She wasn't all too sure that cute was what she wanted her husband to think of her as but it was better than if he had laughed at her, she supposed. Cute wasn't exactly a bad thing either.

When they'd finished breakfast, Fred told her that he'd handle the dishes and that she could shower first. He was pleased to see that she needn't retrieve anything from her room to do so.

Fred turned the dial on the stereo and listened a moment to the music that played from it. He found himself nodding along and nudging the dial once more before he got his wand and set the dishes to wash themselves.

He then made the bed and pulled out comfortable clothes for the day. Figuring he'd just relax until she was finished in the loo, he took a seat on the couch and summoned himself an old copy of "Quidditch by the Month".

He looked up when he heard the lock click on the bathroom door and Hermione came out, barefoot,wet hair piled atop her head, wrapped in a thick blue towel. Droplets of water dripped and slid down her neck from her hair.

Fred's eyes locked on hers.

"Loo's free," she chirped quickly. His gaze followed her as she hurried to her room and he shook his head.

"Merlin."

* * *

"So...how's married life?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked down at where her ring was supposed to be. She and Fred had left them on the coffee table before they'd left. Thus far, Ginny had been the only one to comment on the fact that her finger was bare. She'd simply said that she took it off to shower as her hair tangled round it and had forgotten to put it back on. Nobody had noticed Fred not wearing his either.

"It's different," Hermione said carefully. "Fred's been great though." She looked around for him and saw that he had joined George, Angelina and Bill, who was holding Victoire while Fleur helped Mrs. Weasley with the salad.

Ginny wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. "It is different, isn't it?" she said. "Having just one other person around all the time. You get sick of them."

"Oi!" Harry exclaimed.

"Kidding," Ginny said with a smile, pecking him on the lips.

"At least you two are happy," Ron said. "I think Christine hates me."

Hermione frowned and Harry and Ginny sighed in unison. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you, Ron," Hermione said.

"She does," Ron insisted. "She's told me as much. All she ever does is complain. She refused to come here today."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Did you ask her to come here or did you tell her?"

"I said, 'My mum wants us over for lunch. We'll go at noon?'" Hermione shook her head. "It was a question!" Ron exclaimed. "She said _I_ might be going but _she_ wasn't and then she slammed the door and locked me out of the bedroom!"

"Did you apologize?" Ginny asked.

"What did I do?" Ron grabbed a biscuit off of the plate on the coffee table and bit into it angrily.

Hermione had only met Christine once, right before she and Ron got married. She was a gorgeous girl; she'd been in Witch Weekly a time or two as a favour to a friend. Ron was ecstatic to meet her once he'd gotten the letter with her name assigning them to each other but miserable once he'd met her. From the stories Hermione had heard via Ron, he was constantly saying the wrong thing and she was constantly overreacting. For the sake of her friend, Hermione hoped that it would only take some time before they came to understand each other. Until then, everyone continued to feed Ron the same advice: apologize. He wasn't too keen on the obvious solution.

Harry and Ginny on the other hand were blissfully happy and consistently used as an example for what a good effect the marriage law could have on couples. The papers often omitted the fact that the wizarding world's hero and the Weasleys' youngest child had been in love long before any law had sped along their marriage. They mostly focused on the idea that if The Boy Who Lived and Lived Again could find happiness with the new law then so could everyone else.

Hermione wondered how far off that claim really was.

"Ron, if you'd just apologize and talk to her rather than leaving the flat every time she's upset, things might go better," Harry said.

"Easy for you to say," Ron grumbled. "You two actually like each other."

Hermione laughed. "Mr. and Mrs. Model Married Couple," she teased. "You two have practically been glowing since the moment you said 'I do'." Which was true. Harry and Ginny's 'honeymoon phase' hadn't wavered much since their wedding when the law was first announced, two months ago. They were one of the first couples paired.

Harry and Ginny smiled at each other and Harry whispered something to her and waited for her nod. "Actually," he said, "we have some news."

"If what they say is true," Ginny began, "I'm going to be glowing a lot more soon."

Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise. "You mean..."

Ginny nodded, beaming. "I found out last week." She saw Ron's confused expression. "I'm pregnant," she said.

"You're what?" Ron demanded.

"Last week?" Hermione asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, actually it was confirmed last week. I wanted to wait until it was further along before telling anyone. And...it's a secret," Ginny said. "I'm not telling Mum yet."

"Why not?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry turned red. Ginny looked sheepish. "I'm three months along now." She pulled her shirt tightly across her belly to show the subtle but very much there bump. "I figure in another month no one will know the difference," she said. "It won't matter."

Hermione laughed. "If you told them, they might be so happy they won't even think to do the math," she said. "Besides, you're hardly showing quite yet."

Ginny shrugged.

"You got my sister pregnant," Ron said, looking at Harry.

Harry was turning more and more red. Hermione leaned over and hugged him and then Ginny as well. "Congratulations," she said, keeping her voice down. "You guys are going to be great parents."

Harry grinned at that. "I'm going to spoil them rotten." he said.

Hermione nudged Ron to attention. "Congratulations," he said.

"Do you know if it's a boy—"

Ginny shook her head. "Not yet," she said. "We're still debating whether or not we want to know."

"I want to know," Harry stated. "It's Gin who's not sure."

"And therefore we're still debating," Ginny told him simply.

"Lunch!" Mrs. Weasley called.

They all stood eagerly and made their way to the kitchen.

Everyone got plates and served themselves before spreading out. Not everyone could fit at the table so while Harry, Ginny, Ron, Bill, Fleur and Victoire sat with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the table, Hermione followed Fred to the living room to sit with him, George and Angelina.

Fred sat down and grinned widely at her when she took the space next to him. "Hi," she said.

"Hey." His knee bumped hers and stayed there.

"Did you hear about the Puddlemere game?" George asked. "It was—"

"Brilliant," Angelina finished.

Hermione listened as they recapped the game, following along the best she could and getting Fred to explain the bits she didn't understand. He was quick in replying but he hardly seemed annoyed as Ron and even sometimes Harry got when she asked questions about the plays they described.

Though she'd never spent much time with George and Angelina before, she appreciated how they brought her comfortably into the conversation. There was never a dull moment with Fred and George.

Things were going well. They ate lunch, they helped clean up the dishes, they hung around and had tea, talking and laughing for hours afterwards. Hermione found her mind was both everywhere and nowhere all at once as she listened to all of the conversations around her and Fred's arm rested across her shoulders. She sat back and absorbed it, laughing and trying to distract herself and stop her thoughts from wandering to the possibilities of later that evening.

"Hermione?"

Fred's voice sounded right by her ear and she startled. "Hm?" she asked.

He glanced at his watch and then leaned in. "We should probably get going," he said. "Dinner and then..."

"Right," Hermione said. She nodded as all of her nerves came rushing to the surface. Her stomach flipped. "Let's go."

**Author's Note: alright guys, again, I only had six chapters written so what's coming up next is really all that's written thus far. I hope you liked this chapter and thank you all so much for reading and even more for reviewing. You're all so great and I'm so happy to hear from you. **

**The song Hermione sang in the kitchen is "Who Loves You" by the Four Seasons. Obviously, none of the rights are mine but I am rather fond of The Four Seasons. It's a fun song. **

**Thanks again!**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	6. The First Time

**Author's note: Here we go. Hermione's nervous. Fred's nervous. I'm nervous. I hope you like this and please tell me what you think. **

Dinner was silent for the most part. Fred made a few attempts at conversation and Hermione tried her best to engage him but her mind was elsewhere and he eventually resigned to letting her eat in the quiet and suffering through the lack of conversation on his own. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to talk.

She had only eaten about half of what was on her plate when she set her cutlery aside and asked if it was alright that she excuse herself to get ready.

Though curious, Fred refrained from asking just what getting ready entailed and instead told her to go ahead and that he'd deal with the dishes.

She thanked him quickly and quietly and then disappeared into the bathroom.

She braced her hands on the sink as she stared at herself in the mirror.

"It's Fred," she whispered to her reflection. "You're ready. It's going to be fine. You'll be fine. It's Fred."

She brushed her teeth and washed her face and then scurried into her own bedroom.

Fred pretended not to watch her run from the loo into her room, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

He set the dishes to wash themselves and then approached the bedroom doors. "Hermione?" he called.

"I'll...I'll just be two more minutes," she said, her voice sounding a little panicked.

He frowned. "No rush," he told her. "You're alright though?"

"I'm fine," she assured through the door.

He desperately wanted to believe her. "I'll be in my room, alright?" he said obviously. "Take your time."

There was no reply but he got the feeling that she had heard him. Unbothered, he went into his room and pulled off his jumper, deciding to keep all other articles of clothing on for the moment.

He sat down on the bed and waited for her.

She knocked before she entered. Remembering how he'd told her she didn't have to do so, her fist quickly returned to her side.

He nearly laughed but quickly fought the sound as he feared she would misread it. He had no intention of offending her.

When she walked in all laughter, and breath for that matter, left him. He stared at her in open-mouthed shock as she slipped through the door and closed it softly behind her.

"Wow."

Hermione turned pink.

His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking in her wild curls, her wide brown eyes, pink lips, subtle curves that hid beneath the short white negligee that was all but killing him at the moment, and her smooth legs.

She walked over to him, staring at his socked feet all the while. When his fingers touched the hem of her slip and brushed against her skin, her eyes automatically snapped up.

"I like this," he commented.

"I...well, Fleur suggested I get something for the wedding night and I wasn't really sure..." Her fingers folded the material nervously.

"This is for me then?" he asked, tugging gently.

She nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Then I absolutely love it."

She smiled up at him and he kissed her softly.

"A few things before we start," he began.

He could practically see the cogs in her head, turning and twisting and getting ready to work full force.

"Relax," he said. "Actually, that would be thing number one. I want you to try to relax, alright?"

Hermione nodded.

"Don't try to over think anything," he went on. "And, Hermione," he waited for her eyes to meet his, "I'm going to try to make this as comfortable for you as possible."

"Fred, I don't—"

He continued to talk, shaking his head. "But I need you to help me in that. I want you to tell me if I'm doing anything you don't like, alright?"

"Okay."

He smirked. "Feel free to tell me if I do anything you do like as well," he added.

Hermione's blush increased.

"A few more things: don't worry about me, don't think too far ahead," Fred said, "and try to relax."

She laughed quietly and he grinned at her. "Fred, you're being incredibly sweet about this," she said. "I...thank you. Really."

Fred's grin fell a little as he shook his head once again. "Least I can do," he told her.

Hermione gathered her courage and pressed her lips against his. She pulled back just enough to brush a 'thank you' to his lips before sliding her mouth over his once more. He didn't protest at all as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him, the silk of her negliglee and the thin cotton of his t-shirt separating them.

Hermione slid her hands through his hair, all but melting in his embrace.

It wasn't long before she had stripped him of his t-shirt and he had walked her back against the bed. She fell onto the comforter and moved back, the silk she wore making the action easy. Fred followed after her, crawling towards her with a slight, lopsided smile and his eyes trained on hers.

She found it couldn't be helped as she smiled back.

His smile met hers as he pressed her back into the pillows and her hair fanned out around her. Her heart was pounding fast in her chest, so hard she would have sworn it impossible for him not to hear it. He lavished her neck with his lips as her hands committed the muscles of his back to her memory.

She could feel the heat pooling in her belly as his hands travelled up the curve of her waist and brushed the sides of her breasts.

He fondled her gently, touching her as though she might break and so she found herself pulling him closer to her, finding that it wasn't enough. His lips travelled the expanse of what was exposed of her chest and his warm breath along her skin made her entire body heat up in a way unfamiliar to her.

His hands found the hem of her negligee and paused there, waiting for her permission.

She nodded slightly and his mouth returned to hers then as he worked the material up to her waist. He broke contact but for a moment to divulge her of the garment. He wanted to see her, to stop a second and appreciate what he had uncovered, every inch he hadn't ever seen before. The speed at which she had pulled him back to her though told him that she wasn't ready for that yet and he chose to respect her wishes rather than tell her she had nothing to worry about. He hoped there would be a time for that later.

His hands were slightly calloused, rough against the soft skin of her abdomen, but they were big and gentle and she craved more as her back arched up and she pressed into him without thought.

The moan that left her lips at his touch had her mortified. Fred smirked as his lips paid reverence to her breasts and vowed to get the sound from her again.

It wasn't long before he had succeeded and upon catching Hermione's embarrassed and wide eyed expression, he entwined a hand in hers and pinned it above her head. Squeezing it gently in reassurance, his mouth came to just under her ear, whispering something along the lines of, "Let go," his breath cool against her heated skin.

She hummed in response and raked her fingers through his hair, kissing his shoulder and relishing the groan he emitted.

His hand trailed lightly down her side, tracing the swell of her breast and slight curve of her waist, finding her hip and then moving across to her lower torso.

She tensed and his hand stilled where it was, in contact with both her warm skin and modest knickers.

"If you say no, I won't," he told her. His breathing was ragged even as he tried his best to sound in control of it. "Whatever you're comfortable with. I thought it might help though."

She closed her eyes. "You don't—"

"Hermione, for Merlin's sake, I want to," he said. "Only if you want me to."

She gave an almost imperceptible nod and with her eyes remaining closed, she felt his hand slip lower.

Her legs closed and he chuckled.

"Relax," he whispered. She swallowed and allowed him to move apart her thighs.

Hermione hadn't realized the contact she had been longing for until she received it. She felt as though she was coming completely undone before him and she couldn't even stop herself to worry. In a way, it was utterly liberating.

She began to feel a tightening within her then, and found herself at a complete loss. As Fred continued his near torturous ministrations on her, she felt as though her insides were coiling up in preparation for a release that would not come. She was writhing, twisting and mewling.

Fred watched her, an inkling telling him that she was awfully close but that it was too unfamiliar for her to recognize it quite yet. She looked beautiful though, eyes closed and lips parted as she responded to him with little to no thought now. It was but a moment later that he manipulated her right over that edge and she let out a soft cry as her body gave in and a wave of pleasure overtook her, spreading through every inch of her.

When her eyes opened, his eyes were locked on hers and she turned positively scarlet.

"You're stunning," he told her, kissing her deeply. To say he was surprised was an understatement as while she kissed him back, her hands worked to undo his belt and trousers.

He let her, turned on by her initiative. She fumbled slightly but managed to succeed without further complication and Fred shed the article and kicked them away.

The last of their clothing followed momentarily.

She couldn't stop her gaze from dropping to that certain bit of anatomy. Her eyes widened and the fear of what was to come rose within her.

"This will probably hurt," he warned.

"I know," she said, barely any sound in her voice.

"I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes and nodded once. Positioning himself at her entrance, he kissed her hard and pushed into her quickly.

It did hurt. Hermione liked to think that she had a high tolerance for pain, and she did, it was only a sharp sting, but what she felt then was a mix of both pain and discomfort and when the two were put together that way, she thought it natural to feel the need to squirm away. She resisted the urge as she opened her eyes and saw the gentle and concerned look Fred had fixed on her.

She felt the silent yet sincere apology leave his lips as they met and parted from hers briefly.

There was a pause of silence as he held still, allowing her a chance to get used to the intrusion. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," she whispered.

"Hermione—"

"I just need a second."

He kissed her forehead. He hated that it had to be painful for her, in any way, and in that moment he knew he would have done anything she asked of him. He took a deep breath as he waited, bracing himself above her and using every ounce of strength he had to remain still.

While the pain subsided a bit, the discomfort did not lessen. Hermione swallowed the knot forming in her throat and raised her hips a bit, hoping some sort of movement would remedy the situation.

Fred's body reacted before his mind did and he responded to her action without hesitation, groaning at the sensation he felt from it.

He kissed her softly as his hips drew back. "You're okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Keep going."

* * *

Fred rolled off of her with a satiated sigh. "Hermione Granger, you are amazing," he said.

Hermione had trouble meeting his eyes. "I highly doubt...well...thank you," she settled on finally. "Not that I have anything to compare it to, but...thanks, Fred."

She reached for her wand and sat up, holding the sheets close to her body.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

She blushed. "Fine," she said. "I just..." She summoned her negligee and slipped it on carefully, feeling Fred's eyes on her every movement.

Realizing how potentially uncomfortable she could be in their state of undress, he summoned himself a pair of boxer shorts and put them on.

"Goodnight," Hermione whispered.

"Goodnight," Fred returned.

She made a quiet, indecisive hum of a sound before she spoke again. "Fred, I...would you kiss me goodnight?"

He grinned. "Certainly," he replied. And then he leaned over and cupped her cheek, giving her a kiss that counted. They opened their eyes to look right into each other's as he pulled away. "Let me hold you?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'd like that, thanks."

And so she turned and snuggled against him as he spooned in behind her, pulling her close with an arm around her midsection. And they slept.

Hermione woke up in warm sheets on a half empty bed. Sitting up, she looked around, expecting to see or hear Fred in some way. There was a note on his pillow.

_I'll be right back. Don't move. _

She laughed, wondering just where he had gone and then ignoring the last bit as she got out of bed and padded out to the loo. She brushed her teeth and tied her hair back, splashing her face with cool water as well. She fetched a clean pair of knickers and slipped them on, feeling ridiculous.

She then hurried back into bed and crawled her way under the covers to wait for him. She heard him enter the flat two minutes later and then listened as he moved about the kitchen. A few moments later he walked into the bedroom with two plates of strawberries and various mini muffins and danishes. "You're up," he commented.

"Mhm," she agreed. "Where'd you go?"

"Bakery," he said. "Strawberries were in the fridge. I wasn't really sure what you preferred so I just went for a bit of everything."

"Thank you." She accepted a plate from him and then watched as he carefully sat with his own and tossed a berry in his mouth.

As Hermione raised a muffin to her lips her eyes caught the light that glinted off of her now gold wedding band. She paused and Fred looked at her.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Good," she said with a small smile. "And you?"

"Great."

They ate in awkward silence.

"Um." She paused. "So, I suppose we should expect a visit from a ministry official today. Our forty-eight hours have passed."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Probably expect him, or her, for about noon." For a second he appeared indecisive before he spoke. "Last night," he began, "were you...I mean, was it...did you..."

"Did I enjoy myself?" she attempted. He swallowed and nodded. "I'm...you have to ask?" She laughed nervously. "I mean, obviously it was a bit uncomfortable at first," she blushed, "but as far as first times go, it was great. I did enjoy myself."

He let out the breath he'd been holding and turned to face her. "I didn't hurt you too much? Or make you unbearably uncomfortable?"

She shook her head. "Pleasantly sore and a very good experience." She set her plate aside and moved forward. Kneeling, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He pulled her closer until she sat on his lap and her hands ran down his back. She pulled away. "You wowed me, Fred Weasley."

**Author's Note: There it is. All I've got. Truth is that I only originally wrote chapters one through three and then this one. I've never written something like this before. It's a little vague, I don't think I could pull off anything explicit. Please let me know how I did.**

**Now, this hasn't been marked complete yet. I realize that. I'm very indecisive about this.**

**Thank you for all of your reviews. You're all incredible. Thank you so, so much. **

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	7. The First Ministry Visit

They spent all morning in the flat, figuring they may as well just wait for the official that was due to show up at any time before the end of their work day, likely around five o'clock. Hermione said she wanted to get it over and done with, deal with the ministry worker as soon as possible rather than risk being elsewhere when they dropped by and having to anticipate when they would reschedule. Fred didn't argue with her there.

They ate breakfast, showered, dressed and then Hermione took to a book while Fred busied himself by nicking a few of the workbooks from the shop and revising the potions and recipes written within them as well as looking over the ideas for new products.

Things were different between them now, even as he sat on the couch with her against his side. All morning, from the moment the two had left the bedroom, he could feel the change between them. It had never taken much to get a blush from Hermione but now every time he met her eyes her cheeks turned slightly pink at the very least. And she seemed to be in a different place as well, her mind elsewhere as she went about her day.

He knew he wasn't acting entirely the same either. He was feeling sort of conflicted around her himself. If he stared at her just a moment too long his thoughts returned to what had transpired the night before. He had to fight the urge to scoop her up and take her back into the bedroom, had to stop himself from remembering the way her body had felt beneath his, the way she reacted to his touch, from imagining what other reactions he could get from her. It was damn near painful.

Around noon, the official still hadn't arrived and Fred and Hermione were getting hungry. Fred searched the fridge and found that Hermione had bought deli meat and sandwich bread. He made turkey and cheese sandwiches for the both of them, which they ate on the couch over light conversation.

The official knocked on the door at two o'clock. Hermione answered it as Fred had just excused himself to the loo and was met by a woman in grey robes with a tight, though not unkind, smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley, my name is Grace Pollock and I've been assigned to oversee your, among others, marriage."

Hermione nodded and opened the door wider, stepping aside. "Come in," she invited.

The woman left her sensible heels at the door and entered the flat primly.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Hermione offered. "A cup of tea?"

"No, thank you. Hello, Mr. Weasley." She nodded at Fred, who had just come out of the washroom, and produced a brown file folder from the brief case she carried. Getting right down to business as Fred led the way to the couch, she began. "So. You two were married Thursday evening, that's correct?"

They nodded.

"And I assume the marriage was consummated in the given forty-eight hours?"

They showed her their gold bands as proof whilst nodding once again.

She fixed them a serious look. "And you two are aware that it is against the law to use any method of contraceptive during intercourse with your partner. And doing so constitutes as failure to adhere to the law and you will therefore be sentenced to time in prison or have your wand snapped."

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"Wonderful," said, though it seemed a tad dry with her monotone. "Now." She glanced at the file and read as though she was ticking items off of a grocery list. "You two are required to engage in intercourse once a week. Mrs. Weasley—"

"Hermione," she corrected. "Hermione is fine."

The woman looked put off at being interrupted and continued tersely. "Hermione, you are expected to be pregnant within the year. You must see a healer every month to be tested until you are either announced pregnant or you and/or Mr. Weasley are proven to be sterile, in which case you may either see the ministry about being exempt from the law or continue on as you are. Understood?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed, though she was tense all the while.

"Good. And you are both living here?"

Fred nodded, encasing Hermione's hand in his and squeezing gently.

"Let's have a look around then, shall we?" Ms. Pollock suggested.

Fred got to his feet and began to usher the woman around the flat. Hermione followed them and threw her own little tidbits in every once in a while. Ms. Pollock didn't dawdle. She wrote things down as she went, though she gave no indication of what, and they went along from the living room, to a glance around the kitchen, a quick peek into the loo, then Fred's room, then Hermione's.

That was when Ms. Pollock stopped writing and faced the pair. "This is your room," she said, looking at Hermione. "That other one was Mr. Weasley's? Your things are all in here."

Hermione nodded, looking at Fred worriedly.

"Okay." Ms. Pollock closed the file and tucked it back into her briefcase. "I see you're both following the law accordingly. That makes my role in all of this a lot easier." She stood ramrod straight and folded her hands in front of her. "But this law is about more than repopulation. This law has been put into place to bring people together again, to stop the prejudice and the bigotry. The ministry wants these marriages to work. You are going to produce a child. You are going to be parents. Ideally, you are going to be a family." She gave them a long look before turning on her heel and heading out to the front door, talking all the while.

"Now, I cannot make you share a bed, meals, conversations, your lives with each other. Nowhere in the law does it command you to care for one another. But, it would be nice, wouldn't it?" She put on her shoes and straightened her robe. Her tone was incredibly formal once again. "As your assigned agent, I have full derestriction to simply check-in whenever I'd like. I will be checking in and I will be speaking with your healer. Your first appointment should be scheduled for the end of the month. And I trust you two will be…complying to the law's requirements until then."

"Yeah," Fred said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "We'll be having sex. Don't worry about it."

Hermione looked down, trying to hide both her smile and her blush. He was unbelievable. "Thank you, Ms. Pollock," Hermione said finally as Fred got the door for her.

"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley."

The door shut behind her and Hermione sighed. "Goodbye and good riddance," she said. "How often do you think we'll have to see that woman?"

Fred shrugged. "That wasn't so bad. Could have been worse. Ron said they've only been visited three times."

Hermione didn't think that would be so bad. "Harry and Ginny say their official just likes to stop by for a chat every once in a while."

"Well, Ms. Pollock doesn't seem the type for that," Fred commented. He looked at the time. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked. "Go for a walk or something?"

In all honesty, Hermione didn't feel like doing much of anything. She would have rather curled up on the couch for a while with Fred and a trashy romance novel or maybe even slipped into bed for a quick nap. She could tell that Fred was going to go a little stir crazy in the flat though, there wasn't much for him to do there. She wouldn't really mind going out for a bit. "Okay," she agreed. "Sure."

Hermione couldn't help but think about what Ms. Pollock had said. It'd been running through the back of her mind all day. A family. Parents. She and Fred were going to be parents. She was going to be pregnant. She was going to have a child. Fred's child. The idea was terrifying, and yet her stomach fluttered at the thought.

She changed into her pyjamas and left her room to hurry her way to his. There was a moment of hesitation as she stood outside of his door nearly closed door. She knew he'd said knocking wasn't necessary but at the same time she didn't want to walk right in if he was indecent. The worry was a little ridiculous considering that just last night she had seen it all, but for propriety's sake she took it upon herself to call, "Fred?" and wait for a reply.

"You can come right in, Hermione."

She turned the knob and entered the room sheepishly. Fred gave her a grin, his hair ruffled as the neck of his t-shirt had just passed over his head and he put his arms through the sleeves of the garment. She laughed. "Backwards, Fred," she pointed out. The tag of his shirt stuck out under his chin.

"Oh." He pulled his arms back into his shirt and twisted it around. "Thanks."

"So, I was wondering…I mean, I know after last night it's not…well, I was hoping I could sleep in here." She licked her bottom lip nervously.

Fred smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Go right ahead." He nodded towards the bed.

"Um." Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. "Permanently?" she asked, hesitantly, hopefully.

"Whatever you want, Hermione." He strode over to her, brushing her hair back from her face and cupping her cheek. Her eyes flicked up to him, wide beneath her dark lashes. He kissed her, his mouth warm and inviting against hers. "Permanently sounds great."

Together they turned down the bedding and got under the covers. Fred turned on his side to face her and Hermione did the same, sweeping her hair out behind her and smiling slightly.

He smiled back. "Here's a question," he said, "and don't feel like you have to say either way on my account, but are you going to take my name? I never asked."

She was taken off guard by the inquiry. She hadn't thought about it herself really. Fred filled the silence. "Are you going to continue to go by Hermione Granger?"

Her lips pursed thoughtfully. She tried out the variations of her name in her head, like reading a crushing schoolgirl's notebook. She thought about people addressing her as Mrs. Weasley. It wasn't a bad title, she considered, but in her own mind that name was reserved for Fred's mum and Fred's mum only. On the other hand, she had just been thinking about starting a family with Fred and in that case taking her husband's name sounded quite nice. Her mind went to her own parents. They might not have been aware of it, but they were still Grangers, and so was she.

"Hermione…Granger Weasley," she settled on slowly.

He repeated it back and she nodded decidedly. "I like it," he announced.

"I'll have to work on my signature."

He chuckled and reached for her hand, wanting some sort of contact. As his thumb patterned back and forth on her soft skin, her fingers folded around his.

"So, I'm back at work tomorrow," she told him. "I don't know what time you usually get up at…" She trailed off in hopes that he'd fill in the blank.

"The shop opens at nine," Fred told her, "closes at five thirty. George and I are usually down there by about eight though."

"Well, I have to be in the office for eight," Hermione said, "so I'll probably be up at about seven. I should be home just after five or so. I won't wake you when I leave, will I?"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine," he dismissed.

"Okay."

He watched her expression carefully. She seemed sort of sad. "Everything alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied. "I just...as much as I do love my job, the past couple of days have been really nice." Her voice was soft as she looked down at the space between them. "You know, I thought…well, I don't know what I thought but it isn't a thing like this is." She met his blue eyes. "In a good way," she added hurriedly.

She had thought that going back to work would be something she'd look forward to after the wedding. Sitting behind her desk, filing paperwork, arranging meetings; it would all be a bit of welcomed normalcy, a nice contrast to the unfamiliarity of where she'd be returning to come five o'clock. Now, she wasn't so sure. While she hadn't exactly settled into routine quite yet and things were still a little foreign, she found the idea of spending more time with Fred, just the two of them, rather appealing. The last few days had been different, strange like the nonsensical dreams one had whilst asleep. They didn't make sense but they seemed sort of right, enjoyable. She wasn't sure she was ready to wake up quite yet.

Fred nodded. "I know what you mean," he said.

**Author's Note: Hi! I know, I know, I was very on the fence about this. But I'm thinking after this chapter I might just fly through a whole overview of things and write snippets for the good parts like pregnancy and such. An epilogue of sorts? Anyway, I really do want to write it but I'm not sure how long it will take me as my main focus is "Lettie" at the moment, I'm trying to finish that up. So, I hope you'll let me know if you'd be interested in seeing that, if you guys want it written than I will most definitely write it, I just can't make promises on how soon it will be finished. **

**Also, thank you so much for all of your wonderful feedback on the last chapter. I was very antsy about hearing from you guys as I wasn't sure how I did on it. You all are such an amazing and lovely bunch of readers. Thanks a million and one. **

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	8. The First Routine

The week went by fairly quickly. They fell into a pattern that suited them well. Hermione woke up, got dressed and ready, ate a small breakfast, gathered her things and then dropped a brief kiss on some part of Fred's face, making sure he was awake, before wishing him a good morning and disappearing for the day.

Fred woke up, lay in bed and awaited his good morning kiss. Sometimes he pretended to be asleep so she'd 'wake' him, other times he pretended he'd just woken up. Either way, his feet never touched the floor until her lips had touched his skin for the morning.

It was a nice way to start the day.

Ending the day was a little different though. Every night Hermione waited to see if Fred would make a move, some sort of advance, a step to fulfilling their weekly requirement. If she was being entirely honest, she was nervously looking forward to it. She knew that the first time was always said to be the worst, and she knew from her own experience that it wasn't exactly comfortable or earth-shattering. But she also knew that if that had been sex at its worst, she was very much anticipating just what else it could be like. Fred hadn't initiated anything though. It was bordering on frustrating for her.

It was Friday evening and they were both sitting in bed when Hermione finally screwed up the courage. She'd been thinking about it all week, a passing thought throughout her day that never truly passed by entirely. And at night, when they'd lie in bed, it was practically all she could think about. She had been hoping that Fred would be the one to broach the topic, that she could save herself the awkwardness but he hadn't said a word of it thus far.

Fred had resolved that he would let Hermione come to him. He didn't want to push her, no matter how much the wait was killing him. He had decided to wait until Friday night and if by then she hadn't said or done anything to bring up the topic, then he would.

Hermione set her novel aside, sat up straighter against the pillows propped up behind her and took a deep breath. She wasn't really sure how to start. Actions? Should she show him? Or approach the subject in conversation first? She could only imagine the latter causing her a great deal of embarrassment but she also didn't want to jump his bones exactly; she didn't think she could initiate that much quite yet.

Fred continued to read beside her and so she came to the conclusion that her first order of business was to simply get his attention. She studied his form, the way he had one leg with his knee bent, his foot flat on the bedding, and the other stretching out long parallel to her own. His chin was close to his chest as he held his book against his propped thigh, one hand at the back of his neck while the other turned pages. She'd always noted all of the Weasley boys to be attractive, but she had to wonder how she'd never before noticed just how..._sexy_ Fred was in the most effortless of ways. It wouldn't take much for her to forget herself and her inhibitions. Then she really would jump his bones. Talking herself through it mentally, she moved closer and kissed his jaw. She felt him smile and then she moved to his neck, trailing up to his ear.

He tossed his book aside and gave her his full attention, hands coming to her waist and lower back, turning them over so he held himself above her. Supporting himself on one elbow, he took in her nervous expression and already pronounced blush.

"Fred, the week's almost over," she began softly, "and I thought...well, we haven't had sex and I was thinking we should," she rushed out. "Tonight, if that's alright." Her head turned away from him and her eyes shut as she felt her blush increase twofold.

Fred held back a laugh and slipped a leg between hers, turning her face back towards him. "Hermione, look at me," he ordered. Her eyes locked on his and his hand slid into her hair, coiling in her curls. "That's more than alright," he said earnestly.

"As much as I love that blush of yours, I don't want you to be embarrassed around me," he told her. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing to be ashamed of. You can ask or tell me anything. Okay?" He waited for her reply.

"Okay," she said.

"Good," he said. There was a devilish glint in his eyes as he leaned towards her. "And for the record," his whisper made her shiver, "it will always be more than alright."

She tilted her head to meet his lowering lips. Her body lit beneath his hands and he wasted absolutely no time in undressing her, and her him in turn as well. They were down to their pants in what felt like no time at all.

It was better than last time. It was incredible. It was just as she'd hoped and then some as Fred guided her through it all once again. He didn't hold back as much as before, hooking her legs around his waist and kissing her harder. She liked it. She liked hearing her name from his lips in that husky deep tone. She liked being able to feel the effect she could have on him, liked seeing the rare moments where he lost his control with her. It was thrilling.

Sleepy and satisfied, she put on Fred's discarded shirt while he managed to get himself a pair of pants. She placed a hand flat on his chest as she leaned over and kissed him with a drowsy smile. Her hand slid down his sternum to rest on his abdomen and stayed there as she curled against his side. She hummed contentedly. "Goodnight, Fred."

He wrapped an arm around her back, feeling the way her spine curved as she relaxed into him. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

Sunday morning was nice. The shop opened later and closed earlier, so Fred and Hermione made and ate breakfast together before he reported to work and she flooed to the Potters. She had lunch plans with Ginny and before lunch they thought they might do a bit of shopping.

Ginny took her to a main street not terribly far from Grimmauld Place, where she and Harry had been living since they married. The place was tidied and much more cheerful than before after the couple's redecorating. Hermione had been very impressed with their work when she first visited.

"So, how was the ministry visit?" Ginny asked as they walked along the road and glanced into the shop windows. None of the shops had yet to catch their fancy but they were stopping into the different boutiques and such sporadically, if only to avoid the windy weather outside.

"It wasn't so bad, I suppose," Hermione replied. She pointed at one of the windows and the two girls went in, a bell tinkling above their heads. "It was a woman and she was very straightforward about the whole thing. Rather blunt. Sort of cold."

"Oh no," Ginny said. They smiled at the woman behind the counter and began to browse. "Did she pry? Was she rude?"

"Not rude per se," Hermione said. "Just doing her job. It was all a little uncomfortable though." She lowered her voice. "A lot of it was just her reminding us that we had to have sex and how often and nonsense."

Ginny laughed. "Oh, Hermione. I can't imagine how you'd react to all that. What did Fred say?"

Hermione turned scarlet as she looked through a rack of hats she'd never wear. "He basically told her that sex wasn't a problem and then sent her on her way."

Ginny cocked her head. "How is sex?" she asked curiously.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What?"

She took her friend's arm and pulled her from the shop, seeing that they'd gained the attention of the clerk. "He's your brother," Hermione hissed. "Tell me you don't actually want to know that."

Ginny rolled her eyes as Hermione let go of her. "Well, I don't need a play-by-play," she said. "Just...you know, how is it?"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warmer and warmer. "It's...none of your business," she told her.

"Well, I was at St. Mungos for my appointment and there was this girl in the waiting room," Ginny began, "and she got entirely too personal but she was telling me about the person she got matched up with and she said it's awful. Said that he's just totally bored and selfish in bed and that when it's over she's just so relieved, she showers and goes back to her own bed." Ginny sighed. "She actually said that. Isn't that sad?" She looked over at Hermione who did look rather sympathetic for the girl. "You two aren't like that, are you?" she asked.

"Merlin, no," Hermione said quickly, shaking her head. "Fred's great." She realized what she'd said a moment too late and as she clapped a hand over her mouth and tried not to die of embarrassment. Ginny was laughing. "Ginny!" she exclaimed, hitting the redhead's arm.

"Did you tell him that?" Ginny asked. "I mean, it'd probably only boost his giant ego but I'm sure he'd love to hear it."

"Stop it," Hermione said. "Besides, what've I got to compare to anyway? It wouldn't mean much, now would it?"

Ginny shrugged. "You don't need to compare, you just know," she said. "I mean, there's really no doubt when your toes curl and you can hardly catch your breath. Judging from your expression, I'd say—"

"We're talking about me and your brother here," Hermione reminded.

"Right." Ginny grimaced. "I could tell you how Harry and—"

"I don't want to know," Hermione interrupted. "And I'm sure Harry would agree with me."

Ginny let out an exasperated huff. "Fine. But you and Fred are getting along then?" she asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, actually. It's been going well."

"It's funny," Ginny tucked her scarf into her coat and buttoned up against the cold, "everyone thought you two were sort of mismatched, you know? Because you've always been so...you, and Fred's always been very...Fred. You're sort of opposites but not really. I think the side of you that only comes out every so often is very much like Fred and he can be a lot like you sometimes, too. You kind of fit together."

"You think?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. You could be good for each other."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, neither denying nor agreeing with this. "It is freezing today," she said.

Ginny stood on her toes and looked around. "I think there's a teashop down there," she pointed, "come on."

They hurried down the street and into the cafe, sitting at a small round table for two and ordering tea and a slice of cake to share. "Everything feels so different now," Hermione said. She carved out a bite of cake with her fork. "Married, kids on the way. Are you excited to be a mum?"

Ginny beamed. "I am actually. Although, I think the wait is going to kill me. I've already started my maternity leave from the team," she said. "I thought I'd wait another month or so but Harry insisted."

"Well, it's training season anyway," Hermione reasoned. "By the time the tournaments start, you won't be playing."

Ginny had to agree. "But I'll miss it," she said. "I like being paid to play quidditch. And with all this free time on my hands, I don't know what I'll do. And I don't want to get out of shape either."

Hermione laughed. "You're having a baby, Gin. Your shape is going to change regardless."

She frowned. "I know."

"You'll be fine. I'm sure you'll look great."

"What about you?" Ginny asked. "Are you trying to get pregnant?"

Hermione laughed dryly. "Don't really have a choice, now do I?"

"Well, I mean, are you timing it with your cycle?"

She shook her head. "It'll happen when it happens, I suppose. Although, for all I know I'm already pregnant." She sighed. "I have to make an appointment with a healer for the end of this week."

"Oh, you should go to my healer," Ginny suggested. "She's really nice. She's called Vivian."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. "I'll floo there later and ask."

Ginny sipped her tea thoughtfully. "Are you scared?" she asked.

"Of growing up?" Hermione asked. "I think I've felt pretty grown up in a lot of ways for a while now."

Ginny sighed. "What about starting a family? Being on your own? I'm ecstatic to be having this baby but I'm a little terrified, too. I don't expect it to be easy."

"You're not on your own," Hermione said. "You've got Harry with you. You'll work through all of it together."

"Harry's even more terrified than I am," Ginny said. She laughed. "I think he'll be an amazing dad but every night it's something else he wants to tell me. Did you know that a baby's skull isn't in one piece when it's born?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yeah, I know," she said.

Ginny shook her head. "He just keeps finding more and more things to worry about. He's going to lose his mind."

"Poor Harry," Hermione said. "Of all the things that man has been scared of."

"Think Fred will be a good dad?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I do," she said. She took a bite of the cake.

"In hindsight," Ginny said, "the two of them and Charlie were probably my favourites to be around growing up." She went on to explain. "Ron never seemed so big to me, Percy was Percy and Bill wasn't around as much. But the twins always had a bit of time for me and Charlie was always a good big brother."

They ate in comfortable silence. "You know, we're eating cake now, we won't have room for lunch," Hermione pointed out.

"Please," said Ginny, "give me twenty minutes and I'll be plenty hungry for lunch."

"Well, we can still do a bit of shopping in twenty minutes then. There's a bookshop that was on the other side of the street," Hermione said.

"Of course." Ginny placed her fork on the plate, finished her tea and put some money on the table, ignoring her friend's protests. Hermione decided she would pay for lunch then. "Let's get going."

* * *

"Hey, what'd you and Gin get up to?" Hermione shut the door behind her and took off her shoes.

"We had lunch, shopped, went by and saw Harry as well." She went into her room and put her bags down, pulling off her jumper and tossing it on the bed as well. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized. "Harry asked me to stay awhile."

"No worries," Fred said. He was at the stove, turning chicken over in the pan, tea towel thrown over his shoulder. He was barefoot and the sleeves of his button down were rolled to his elbows. Hermione eyed his muscled forearms with a smile. He shot her a grin, glad to have her company. "What'd you buy?"

"A few books," she said. "Pyjamas. Oh, and this cookbook. I thought I'd try some of the recipes out. Cheese soufflé, quiche, orange roughy, cheesecake." She washed her hands and dried them quickly. "Anything I can do to help?" she offered.

"If you wouldn't mind tossing the salad," Fred said, nodding at the wooden bowl on the counter and the lettuce beside it.

"Sure." She set about breaking the leaves and washing them as he seasoned the chicken. "So, I'm going in to St. Mungos," she said conversationally. "I'm thinking I'll make the appointment for Wednesday. Just leave work a little early."

"Okay. Just let me know what time so I can give George the heads up."

Hermione looked up in surprise and Fred caught a quick glance at her expression. His own expression became unsure. "I'm coming with you, aren't I?" he asked.

Hermione watched him carefully. She didn't like being in hospitals but she wasn't sure whether or not she'd be more or less comfortable in a room with the healer, her feet up in stirrups, with Fred in the room. If he wanted to be there though, she felt it a bit unfair to tell him no. She didn't want to make him feel unwanted either. It'd be nice to have company in the waiting room. "If you'd like to," she replied, "you're invited."

"I'll be there then."

**Author's note: Thank you all so much for reading. I'm thinking I want to write this as a proper, somewhat lengthy story as I think I have the ideas (a list of firsts to cover) to write it. However I don't know how long it will take me or how often it will be updated. I still want to finish Lettie. Please review and share your thoughts. **

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	9. The First Appointment

The woman behind reception hadn't been the most welcoming, nor pleasant, of people. Fred made a face as he and Hermione walked away from the desk to sit down in the waiting area of the maternity ward. The chairs were uncomfortable, wooden-framed and dressed in scratchy pink fabric. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for the many pregnant women who had to occupy the chairs on a daily basis. Surely they were already tired, achy and uncomfortable enough as it was, the least they could do was be provided a couch. Especially after dealing with that grouch of a woman in order to check in. Hermione swallowed as she realized it wouldn't be too long before she was one of the women she was pitying.

Fred reached over and took her hand, toying with her fingers and wedding band. "You alright?" he asked. "You've been kind of quiet."

"Fine," she replied, giving him a small smile as his knee bumped hers.

"You know, I can actually remember coming here with Mum when she was pregnant with Gin," he said. He looked thoughtful for a second before he went on. "There was this one healer, maybe she was in training now that I think about it, but she got a real kick out of me and George. Used to see us giving Mum a hell of a time when we bothered Ron, so she'd get us these biscuits from the dining hall downstairs." He grinned. "We made a right mess with them, but it did stop our antics for a while. All the women used to think us adorable."

"A charmer from the very start," Hermione commented.

He laughed with a nod, turning her ring round her finger.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the healer will see you now." The pair looked up at the voice of the older woman who gestured that they follow her. Fred weaved his fingers through Hermione's as they stood and trailed behind the woman to a blue door just down the corridor.

"Okay,"she said, turning to them after addressing her clipboard. Pushing her spectacles up on her nose, she turned to Hermione. "Mrs. Weasley, you'll find a hospital gown waiting for you on the patient table. If you'll just put that on, Healer Vivian will see you in just a moment," she directed.

"Thank you," Hermione said. The woman opened the door to the exam room before leaving them to themselves.

Hermione approached the table and gingerly lifted the blue-greeen gown from the papered surface. She was surprised by how similar the room was to the muggle offices she was used to. She eyed the gown warily before pulling off her jumper. She paused. "Um. I…" She stared at feet and took a deep breath. "I know that this is sort of ridiculous, but…would you mind turning around?" she asked finally, looking at him with apologetic eyes and a sheepish, barely there, smile.

He chuckled but obliged, facing the wall. He could vaguely hear her movement as she began to undress. "You know, you've nothing to hide," he commented, tossing his voice over his shoulder.

She blushed. "Thank you," she managed. "I'm just not, well…comfortable."

He frowned at the wall. "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why aren't you comfortable?" he clarified.

She found herself at a loss, unsure of her honest answer. "Nobody's seen me naked before," she answered slowly. At the back of her mind she realized that this was no longer true but that it was also unnecessary to point this out to him. "I feel very exposed," she said.

"We'll have to work on that," he decided quietly.

"You can turn around now," she told him. "Thank you."

He took a seat as she hopped up on the table, hands folded neatly in her lap and ankles crossed as her feet hung above the floor. "Hey," she said, "are you going to get tested while we're here?" She paused before hurriedly adding, "You don't have to, I was just asking."

"I hadn't planned to," he replied. "But I can if you'd like. We aren't exactly an infertile breed, us Weasleys, but I suppose there's always a chance."

She bit her lip. "You don't have to," she repeated. "I'm sure it's not an issue."

He shook his head at her. "I'll go see about it after we're finished here," he promised.

There was a knock at the door, gaining their attention and causing Hermione to sit up a little taller. "Healer Vivian!" a voice chirped. "Can I come in?"

"Yes!" Hermione called back.

A young woman with dark hair swept up in a high ponytail entered the room, wearing a white uniform with a lavender blouse underneath. She was short, little really, and had a very innocent, bright-eyed look to her. Hermione was caught between being comforted and being worried about how young the healer appeared to be. Ginny recommended her though, she reminded herself, so surely there was good reason to requesting her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" Vivian asked. They nodded. "Wonderful," she said. "My name is Vivian, and I will be your healer for the foreseeable future. Pleasure to meet you both." Vivian began to move about the room, setting her clipboard on the end of the table and withdrawing a quill from her coat.

"Let's just begin, shall we?" she said, noting something on her page before smiling at the couple. "Now, Mrs. W—"

"Hermione, you can call me Hermione," she interrupted.

"Of course. Hermione, if I could just have you lie down here, we'll start with a simple pregnancy test and go from there, alright?"

Hermione nodded and lay back on the patient table. Vivian pulled her wand from her pocket and pressed the tip to Hermione's lower abdomen. "This is going to feel a bit cold," she warned. Hermione felt the cool tingle of the murmured spell spread throughout the lower half of her torso and she looked down to see the yellow glow of it. "Not pregnant," Vivian announced.

She let out a slow breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, feeling strangely disappointed at the outcome. She hadn't really thought she would be pregnant, but it was saddening to hear it confirmed. Though, it was probably for the best she supposed. She looked over at Fred, trying to decipher his reaction to the news. He was watching her, the right corner of his mouth quirking up just the slightest bit. He didn't look disappointed or relieved, just sort of content where he sat, unworried either way.

"Now, if you'll put your feet up in these stirrups," Vivian said, "we're going to check up on everything else."

She complied and then waited, listening as Vivian explained the various spells she was using on her until she finally announced that everything was good. "Now, we're going to give you a potion you should start taking once a day, straightaway."

"For?" Hermione prompted.

"For supplements. Make sure you're ready to be an expecting mother," Vivian explained, opening a cupboard and withdrawing a vial. "Just a couple of drops a day will do. No more and definitely no less."

"Okay." She took the vial from the healer and reached for her bag, realizing with a sigh that the chair it sat on was just a tad too far from her fingertips. Fred shook his head with a chuckle as he got to his feet and took the small container from her. "If you could just put it in the outside pocket," she requested. "Please." He nodded and did as she asked.

"You also have the option to be put on a fertility potion," Vivian was saying, "but we understand that some couples may feel uncomfortable using that sort of thing."

Hermione looked to Fred to gauge his opinion on the option. He didn't appear all too enthused about it. "Up to you," he told her, sitting back in his chair.

She thought about it. It would likely speed things along, she supposed, but she wasn't entirely sure that that was what she wanted. "That's okay," she said finally. "Fred, if you don't mind, I'd rather not."

"Fine by me," he replied easily.

Vivian smiled. "Splendid," she said. "Now, while this is also an option we do encourage that husbands be tested as well. Just so there is no doubt."

Fred nodded. "RIght," he agreed. "We were going to ask about that."

"Well, Mr. Weasley, if you'd like to go down the corridor, make a left and check in with Susan, you can get that out of the way now."

"Sure," he said. "Is Hermione done then?"

At Vivian's confirming nod, Hermione prepared to hop off of the patient table. "She is but, Hermione, if you wouldn't mind staying a moment, I'd like to ask you a few questions. Just you and I."

Fred's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Okay," Hermione said hesitantly. "I'll meet you back in the waiting area?" she asked, turning to Fred.

"Yeah," he said. "Alright." He gave an awkward half wave before slipping out of the room and closing the door softly behind him.

"So," Vivian said, putting her clipboard aside, "how are things?" she asked.

"Great," Hermione replied. "…You?"

"I'm good, thank you," Vivian said with a light laugh. "But I'm actually asking about your marriage. How is that going?"

"Oh," Hermione said. "That's great as well actually."

"You and Fred get along?"

"We do," she confirmed.

"Answer this honestly, off the record," Vivian told her, "are you happy in your marriage?"

Hermione now realized what it was that Vivian was doing. These questions didn't seem like the routine healer check-up questions. This felt like a chat. Vivian was making sure all of the newly made wives were okay in their forced relationships. It hadn't occurred to Hermione how key the healers were in the ministry's grand scheme. The healers held the fertility potions, the contraceptive potions, all of the records for whether or not each assigned couple was physically able to conceive. If any witch or wizard was found sterile, they were eligible to be exempt from the law. She wondered if she had said no, if she spoke negatively of her marriage, if that's what Vivian would have done, offered to give her a way out of it. It was illegal, but something about the seriousness in the stare the healer was giving her said that she just might have done it anyway. No wonder Ginny had recommend her, she truly cared about her patients.

"I'm happy," Hermione replied. "And, well, I should probably send the ministry a thank you note for pairing me with Fred. I got lucky."

"Did you two know each other prior to the law?" Vivian asked, much more relaxed and a little less serious now.

"He's my best friend's older brother," Hermione explained with a smile.

"That's sweet."

"In a way, yes. Though I don't think I would have seen it on my own," Hermione said.

"Well then, you're very lucky in all of this," Vivian told her.

"I am," Hermione agreed.

* * *

"Everything go alright?" Fred asked, handing her her bag as they prepared to leave St. Mungos.

She nodded. "You?"

"All good."

She smiled. "So what now?" she asked brightly. "We've got quite a while before we need to think about dinner. Do you have to get back to the shop?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Anything you wanted to do?"

She began to tell him no when an idea struck her. "Actually," she said, "if you don't have anything that needs doing, could we go to a bookshop?"

"Sure. Have something in mind?" he asked.

"Well...it's in London," she told him.

He held out an arm for her to take hold of. "Lead the way." And so she did, apparating them to an alley way beside the quaint bookshop she had loved since childhood.

He looked up at the sign before they entered. "Mister Smith's Paperbacks," he read aloud. "This looks nice."

She took his hand and pulled him inside, a bell jingling merrily above their heads as they entered. "It is," she said. "Come on."

He was just short of astonished as he took in his surroundings. Books. Books everywhere, filling the shelves and continuing up atop them, stacked high to the ceilings. They looked rather precarious though not a single one wobbled nor was there a single book on the floor. Every other surface was covered in them though, both paperbacks and hardcovers despite the shop's name. Most of them appeared to be second-hand; well-worn but still in good condition. Hermione looked entranced by it all, completely mesmerized. He smiled. "Do you come here often?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I used to," she said, her voice taking on a nostalgic, faraway tone. "I haven't in quite some time though."

He wanted to ask more but she just looked so taken by everything that he felt he may be interrupting her little bit of serenity by questioning its history.

An older gentlemen, white-haired and a face drawn with laugh lines and crow's feet approached them then. "Is that you, Miss Granger?" he asked. She gave him a bright smile.

"Mr. Smith!" she exclaimed, shaking his hand. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I haven't seen you in...oh, I don't know how long! Where are Mr. and Mrs. Granger? And who is this young man?" Mr. Smith turned his wide smile on Fred and offered a hand, which Fred took in a good handshake.

"Fred Weasley," he introduced.

"Actually, this is my husband," Hermione informed.

"Wow," Mr. Smith said, his eyes wide in what looked like a strangely childlike awe. "Married. Congratulations!"

"Thank you."

"And how are your parents?" he asked.

Fred glanced at Hermione worriedly but she appeared unfazed. He supposed he'd never really asked too much about them, maybe the question didn't catch her off guard at all. But then again, something in her expression looked different, though he couldn't pinpoint how. And that day at her parents' house...she didn't seem like herself.

"They're doing well," Hermione replied. "Traveling at the moment actually."

"Well, that's lovely."

She nodded before her focus left him and her eyes swept over the shop distractedly.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Mr. Smith inquired.

"Yes." She suddenly had a bit of her light about her again as she looked around at the copious amounts of literature, immersing and losing herself. "Do you have anything by A.S. Byatt?"

**A/N: Hi all! I'm so sorry this took so long. I just got back from a lovely vacation in Florida. Scorching hot, I was in the happiest place on earth, though I did go to Universal for the first time and I did go to Harry Potter World and I did drink the butterbeer though I unfortunately lacked the forethought to go on the ride and THEN drink the frothy, creamy sweetness. So. It was incredible nonetheless and the ride was a blast. Lots and lots of fun. **

**Thanks for reading and please review! Also, you may have noted that I have named the previous chapters as well as this one. If there are any chapter titles you'd like to see, let me know, I will definitely consider it if I can figure out how to write it. **

**Thanks again!**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	10. The First Late Night

It was later that evening as they were lying in bed, the lights still on, their pillows propped up behind them, that Hermione finished one of the three books she'd bought earlier. Watching her place the novel on the side table, Fred figured it was now a good time to speak. "Good book?" he asked.

She looked sheepish as she realized that she really hadn't been paying him much attention since she'd cracked open to the first page of the book. "Yes," she told him. "Sorry, I…got a little…consumed by it."

He chuckled. "I noticed. It's alright," he said, and he meant it. She was an adorable reader. Literally. There was something about watching her expression as her eyes roamed the pages, the little changes and quirks, the way her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes widened, her watery smiles, small frowns. The way she licked her lips. Her quiet, just above a breath laughter and occasional gasps. How her mouth fell open and she momentarily closed her book, looking around at the real word as though she couldn't believe whatever words were printed before her. The way she described it was perfect. She looked utterly consumed by the text. She was rather entertaining to watch actually.

"Hey, um, thanks for coming with me today," Hermione said. "I'm really not a fan of hospitals. It was nice to have some company."

"No problem," Fred said. "So does this mean I'm invited to the next one?"

"You're more than welcome to come along," she told him.

"Good."

She settled under the covers, fixing her pillow beneath her head and pulling the blankets up to her chin. Her legs curled comfortably and she let out a happy sigh. She knew she wouldn't sleep quite yet, but she was very content to simply get comfy for the moment.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Mhm?"

"Will you tell me something about yourself?" Fred asked.

She looked up at him, propped up on his elbow as he leaned towards her. "Something like what?" she questioned.

"I don't know," he said. "Anything."

She thought the question came a little out of nowhere and she was unsure how to reply, but she wasn't about to say no. He'd told her plenty of stories and tidbits about himself, she supposed it was only fair. Considering it carefully, she searched for something worth telling.

"Tell me what your favourite thing in the world is," Fred instructed.

She blinked. "My favourite…that's rather broad," she said. What could possibly suffice a suitable answer to that?

"One thing that you could live without, but you'd never want to," he elaborated.

"My wand?" Hermione said uncertainly.

"Beyond that."

"Books?"

"More specific."

She sighed. "I…I don't know," she said helplessly.

"Okay," he said. "Forget that. What do you love?" he amended.

"My friends," she replied instantly. "My family."

"Lovely," he said. "But I asked for what, not whom."

She took a deep breath and looked thoughtful, if a little exasperated as well. "Okay," she began decidedly. "Just remember that you asked the question, here's getting your answer."

He nodded.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I love laughing so hard that my body aches," she started. "I love eating home cooked meals in good company. I love the way the fire looks when its just about to die. I love learning and reading and writing. I love the sound of my father's voice in the hall when he comes home from work. The smell of my mother's perfume when we go out to dinner. The smell of old books." She paused to take in a lungful of air before going on. "The feeling when you open a new book for the first time. The texture of really old paper and parchment. The smell of freshly mown grass. The way my teeth feel when I leave the dentist. I love the taste of hot chocolate on a cold day and the feeling it gives you as it warms you from the inside out. I love pyjamas. I love…I'm sorry. I'll just stop there. Does that suffice?"

He shook his head. "Go on. Please."

She smiled. "Okay, she said. Her voice became softer, less hurried, as she continued. "I love lemonade on hot summer days. Hugging the people you've missed. I love the beach and the sand between my toes. Sandcastles. Warm sun on my back. I love singing along to the stereo and dancing barefoot. I love ice cream." She met his eyes. "I think it's your turn now," she told him.

He was shaken back to just how this long list had begun and he quickly got to thinking. "Alright," he agreed. "I love ice cream, too."

"And?" she prodded.

"And in jokes. And things that take you by pleasant surprise."

"I love the beginning of spring," she said.

"I love when Charlie visits from Romania."

"I love traveling."

"Coming home after being away for too long."

She nodded with an agreeing smile. "This bed."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked in surprise.

She blushed. "Yeah. I can't remember a time in the last couple of years when I've slept as well as I have in this bed." She patted the space between them to emphasize this.

"Hm. That's good to hear," he told her, feeling his heart swell just a bit in his chest.

"Well, you might have something to do with that," she admitted.

He smiled widely at her. His heart was going to burst. "I like sharing a bed with you, too," he said. "Much better than sharing with George."

She laughed. "Tell me a secret."

"Tell me a story."

"Okay, but I warn you, I haven't many secrets. I'm an open book for the most part."

She waited, listening intently. "Then tell me about the other part?"

"My first bit of accidental magic was making my vegetables fly out the window," he confessed, "but I didn't tell anyone because I was afraid they'd make me eat more vegetables."

She laughed. "That's endearing."

He shrugged with a brief half-smile. "Alright. Story-time."

"What kind of story?"

"Whatever you've got. Preferably a true one."

She offered a grin. "I can do that. Let's see…okay, when I was four, I was enrolled in preschool. My parents had a meeting with my teacher because I came home complaining that all I did all day was play and I wasn't learning anything."

"You're kidding," he deadpanned.

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry to say that I'm not."

He chuckled. "You're really something."

She turned to look at him and his teasing expression. She rolled her eyes. "Okay. What's your earliest memory?"

He leaned over and looked at the clock. "It's getting late," he noted. "Do—"

"Oh," she said. "Sorry. I don't mean to keep you—" They both had to be up early for work the next morning.

He looked at her with a strange expression. "I was going to ask if you wanted tea or something," he said. "But if you'd like to get to sleep then I don't—"

She shook her head quickly. Sleep was far from her mind. "Tea would be wonderful."

Earliest memories. Favourite just about every things. That was how the night passed. He told her about how hard it was to open the shop and all of the mistakes he and George had made along the way. He talked about his family and his siblings and his fear of ceiling fans because they just looked like they could come down at any moment. She talked about what it was like to find out she was witch and to leave for Hogwarts, such an unfamiliar world, for the first time. She told him about the recurring nightmare she had as a little kid where she was chased by the craziest cartoon characters and how much it terrified her. And then somehow she was talking about how she missed her parents and often thought of going to find them, to try and restore their memories, but that she also knew she never would.

"Why?" he asked.

She looked up at him then and he saw how her brown eyes shone with the tears that pooled there. He was about to say that they didn't have to talk about it when she began to speak. "Because I know they're happy," she whispered. "And safe. And while I know that what I already did to them was wrong, I have to wonder if it would only be more unfair to take these lives away from them, too." He took in her sad expression, seeing something else there as well. It took a moment for him to place it and, when he finally did, his heart all but broke in his chest. Guilt.

"You did it to keep them safe," he reminded. "You did what was best."

"I know," she said. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she turned to lie on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I just never really thought of what would happen after the war. My mind never got that far."

"I know what you mean." He reached for her, on instinct toward her wet cheeks, but something about the way she was turned from him had his hand changing course and instead it went to his bedside table for his mug. He finished the last bit of his tea. Her cup was emptied just moments before and was left still slightly warm on the nightstand.

"I'm sure they're doing well," he said softly. "And I'm sure if you ever did find them they'd be more than happy to have you back."

She pressed her lips together and blinked quickly. "Thanks," she whispered. He got the feeling she no longer wanted to talk about it. As they fell to a quiet lull he screwed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he could have said to make it better and whether or not it was too late to make an attempt.

"Guess what?" he said suddenly.

"What?" she obliged.

He placed his mug down with a clunk. "I don't like tea," he announced. "I really don't."

She let out a short laugh, wiping her cheeks and eyes. "I…I don't know what to say to that," she admitted. "Why do you drink it, then?"

Fred raised his hands, seemingly answerless. "Everyone else seems to like it. George likes it," he replied finally. "I thought it was an acquired taste. Like wine." He paused. "I don't like wine much either," he told her.

Hermione smiled. "Neither do I, actually. Wine. I like tea. But I think wine is just an acquired taste I simply haven't acquired yet."

"I don't think it's within my reach," he stated.

"Okay. Well what do you like then?" she asked.

He looked hesitant. "Alright," he said. "Honestly?"

She nodded. "I like juice," he confessed, "and milk."

"Anything likely served in a cup with a lid and bendy straw?" she teased.

He scowled playfully. "No. If you must know, I also like cocktails." For good measure he added, "And the occasional whiskey."

"Umbrella drinks and hard liquor," she mused. "Interesting. Now, tell me, you can drink whiskey but you can't drink wine?"

He'd never thought about that. "I like the burn," he explained. "Hate the taste."

She gave him a funny look. "Sounds like a good enough reason." It seemed two parts joke and one part sincere.

"Hey," he said, "can I ask you something?"

"No," she said. Taken aback, he looked at her in surprise, catching the very smallest of smiles playing on her lips.

"Was that a joke Miss Granger?" he asked, poking her side as she laughed.

"Maybe," she returned. "And it's Granger Weasley, actually."

He laughed, hard and with his entire body so that she could feel his laughter too as she lay beside him in confusion. Then he caught his breath and laughed some more. "It…it wasn't that funny," she said.

He shook his head. "That must be the most unpredictable thing I've ever heard you say," he told her. "Just…no."

"You had a question to ask," she reminded, turning on her side to face him and poking his arm.

"Yes," he agreed. "Your job, what is it you do? I mean, I know you work for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures but, day to day, what kind of work do you do?" he inquired.

Hermione tucked her curls behind her ear and hummed. "Boring work," she said. "Day to day it's filing paperwork, researching laws, attending meetings to talk about the current issues and the potential action plans. Those are kind of interesting but I don't know that everyone sees the issues for what they are." She sighed. "Occasionally I get sent out to do evaluations on properties and owners of magical creatures, making sure they meet regulations, that the creatures are well cared for, that sort of thing."

"You like it?" he asked.

She nodded. "I do. Even on the boring days I feel as though I'm really doing something, you know? Making a difference. Helping some sort of life. That's what I've always hoped to do."

Fred was amazed at how good she was. Just genuinely good. She was so incredibly refreshing. "Very noble," he said. "And you're doing a good job at it then."

"I don't know about nobility, but I like to think it's doing good." She paused, and he watched as the pink tip of her tongue parted her lips and swept over them slowly. "You know, I think what you and George do is amazing," she said.

His eyes snapped up from her lips. "Yeah?" he asked. "I thought you didn't agree with all the jokes and pranks."

"I never said that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me back in school."

Hermione shook her head with a slight frown. "I didn't approve of you two using unsuspecting kids as test subjects," she corrected. "I thought the jokes and pranks were creative. Extraordinary."

"Extraordinary?"

"Yes." She nodded. "You and George are extraordinary."

He felt like he already knew what was coming. "If only we put it to good use, right?" he asked.

"What?" He was surprised at the bewildered tone her voice took and even more taken aback by what she said next. "You are putting it to good use. You two bring smiles and…and laughter to the world. That's one of the best contributions I can imagine. Walking into the shop is like walking into…a sort of childhood happiness. It's magical. And not because there's always stuff whizzing around."

He laughed. "Thank you," he said. "That's…Merlin, that's nice to hear." And it was.

"It's true."

"It makes me feel accomplished," he said.

"You are accomplished."

Her hand slipped under his, folding gently around his fingers, and she thought of how he'd held her hand at the hospital earlier, how well they fit in every way and how nice it was to have his touch. She wondered if he felt it, too. If having their hands entwined and their bodies pressed together felt just as natural to him as it did to her. Oh, how she hoped it did.

"Hey," Fred whispered, "it's three thirty."

She studied his features, trying to determine whether or not he was trying to hint at being tired himself. Unable to read him, what that hopeful look was for, she thought she'd take her chances, refusing to let this time slip through her fingers. "I'm not tired yet," she whispered back.

"Alright." He stretched and let his arm fall behind her and just as he'd intended, she scooted over to rest her head on her shoulder, tucking into his side. Her hand came to rest on his chest, tracing light, purposeless patterns there as she listened to his heartbeat.

He heard her soft sigh. "What are your happiest dreams?" she asked.

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her closer. He could practically feel her drifting off, her drowsiness as he held her, despite her claims otherwise. He twined one of her soft curls around his finger.

"Fred?" she murmured, awaiting her answer.

He smiled down at her. "The ones with happy endings."

* * *

**A/N: Oh goodness. I was hoping by posting closer together it would make up for the long wait from the last one. I don't know how soon the next chapter will be though so I apologize in advance just in case. Also, I worry that I'll read this tomorrow and hate it entirely but I'm taking my chances posting tonight. I love the readers of this story. I feel like you're one of the best groups yet, you lovely reviewers. You're all so incredibly nice. And if you're new here, I really hope I get to hear from you as well!**

**Please review and tell me what you thought. Thanks for reading!**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	11. The First Laundry Lesson

"Hermione? Hermione, are you alright?"

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts by the meek voice of her colleague, Mallory. "Oh," she said. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, were you saying something?"

Mallory shook her head quickly. "No," she said. "You just don't seem entirely here today is all. You look a little tired." Hermione saw Mallory's eyes widened and quickly assured that she wasn't offended by the comment.

"I am tired," she said, shuffling the files on her desk into a neat pile and placing them back in their folder. She quickly wrote out a note to tell their department head that everything was accounted for and just as the files read.

"Did you take work home last night?" Mallory asked.

"No," Hermione fought a yawn, "Fred and I were up practically all night though."

Mallory's eyes widened. "Oh," she squeaked.

Hermione gave her an odd look before realizing her train of thought. "Oh, not like that!" she exclaimed. "No. We were talking." Although, the thought of what Mallory had imagined…Hermione shook her head quickly.

"Oh," Mallory said. She looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"That's okay."

"So, how did your appointment go?" Mallory asked.

Hermione understood the question she was really asking and she negated this. "I'm not pregnant. Though the appointment went well actually, the healer was very nice."

Mallory nodded with a sigh and Hermione offered a smile. "Any news from the ministry?" she asked. Mallory, though two years older than Hermione, was not yet married. The law had had her paired of course as she was perfectly eligible for it, however her betrothed had other ideas. Mallory hadn't even met the man before he was reported as having left Britain, as a number of others had done once getting news of the law. Whether he left to elope or to remain a bachelor was still undiscovered. At any rate, this left Mallory undecidedly unpaired as the ministry sorted through the mess of making sure all other couples were married and adhering to the law before taking on the task of dealing with her and everyone else in her situation. From what Hermione had heard, it was a lot like throwing your socks in the laundry; you gathered them all together the best you could, paired them up and put them away, yet it was inevitable that at least a few would get lost somewhere in the process. It seemed the only logical solution was to take the misfits and match them the best you could, even if it wasn't perfect. From the notice Mallory had said she'd received, that was exactly what the ministry planned to do. Whenever they got around to it, that is. The sad thing was that every day Mallory came in disappointed that she hadn't heard from them yet. She was just waiting to find out whom she'd be marrying. Excitedly.

It made Hermione feel a little bad actually. Mallory was sweet, a barely five foot, dark-haired, slightly heavier, hopeless romantic. She had such high hopes for the new law, she was looking on the bright side of what everyone else saw as a negative situation, she was looking for true love.

Mallory frowned. "No. Not yet."

"I'm sure you'll be hearing from them soon," Hermione said.

Mallory brightened. "Maybe. Do you want me to take the folder back to Louis?" she offered.

"Yes, please," Hermione accepted, handing over the folder. She looked at the time. "I'm going to run out for a coffee, would you like anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Earl grey?" Hermione asked.

Mallory nodded. "Yes, please."

* * *

Fred cleared the register for the umpteenth time. He'd lost count of how many times he'd entered in the wrong amount now. Luckily, the customer looked more amused than annoyed, a girl in her teens purchasing a handful of wonder witch products. Fred finally managed to ring up the purchase and placed the items in a bag, handing them over with an apologetic smile. The girl handed over her money with a giggle, holding up a bottle he had missed. "You forgot this one," she told him.

Fred sighed and shook his head. "You can take that one. Free of charge," he said. "Have a nice day."

The girl smiled widely and thanked him, leaving the shop. Fred collapsed on the counter, his weight on his elbows and his head in his hands. His eyes began to droop as he blinked slowly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tried to function on only four hours of sleep. He imagined he'd still been in school then. Suddenly his arm came out from under him and his hand fell to the counter with a thud, his head dropping forward as well. He stood up sharply and glared at George who was chuckling on the other side of the counter. "Long night?" George asked.

Fred nodded. "We were up all night talking," he said.

"Rough," George sympathized.

"No, it was actually…it was amazing," Fred told him. "She's just," he yawned, "she's incredible."

"You're smitten," George accused.

"She's my wife." Fred shrugged, scribbling down the most recently sold items in the book. "I'm allowed to have feelings," he said.

"And what are _her_ feelings?" George asked, the surprise that his brother hadn't denied anything showing clear on his face.

Fred accidentally knocked over a box of chocolates and quickly dove forward to catch them. He placed them back on the counter. "I don't know," he said. "Haven't quite gotten to asking. It's only been a couple of weeks. I don't even know how I…" he trailed off unsurely. "No sense in scaring her," he decided finally.

"You know, you _are_ shagging her," George said. "I'm sure she'd like knowing that means something more to you."

"It does," Fred said with certainty. "She knows that."

George raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't think I've ever seen you get this way over a girl. And never this fast," he said. He smirked. "Who knew it would be Granger?"

"Granger Weasley," Fred corrected. "And again, she's my _wife_. It's different." The door opened and let in a blast of frigid air as more customers entered the shop.

George grinned. "You're _really_ trying," he said.

Fred leaned forward on the counter once more. "It's not that hard," he confessed. George rolled his eyes and knocked his twin's elbow a second time. Again, Fred's hand bounced on the counter and he lurched forward.

George laughed. "For Merlin's sake, you're a hazard to yourself," he said. "Get in the back room. Count boxes or something."

Fred stood. "What boxes?" he asked.

"There's always boxes," George said. Fred couldn't refute that. The back room was always a mess. He swung himself over the counter and made his way to the stockroom as his brother told him to make himself useful and avoid breaking anything.

"And next time you come in to work sleep deprived," George added, "could you make it a worthwhile story?"

* * *

"Fred?" Hermione called. She realized a moment too late that he might still be napping on the couch and she winced. Leaving the bedroom though, she was glad to see that he was up and about in the kitchen. Apparently a half hour with his eyes shut had done him well.

"Yeah?" He shut the fridge door with a sigh, not seeing anything dinner-worthy.

"I'm going to do laundry," she said. "Do you have anything I could take for you?"

Fred's eyebrows drew together. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Laundromat," she replied simply. "I've got plenty of coins and I picked up detergent after work. Do you mind if I empty the laundry basket then?"

"I usually take laundry back to the Burrow," he told her. "Mum doesn't mind."

"I like the laundromat," she said. "It's relaxing. And I've got all of these coins anyway, I might as well make use of them." Besides, going to the Burrow with the sole purpose of doing laundry would leave her feeling undoubtedly guilty and she couldn't put laundry off any longer. Clean, work appropriate clothes were a necessity.

"Alright," Fred said. "Well, I've got a laundry bag, give me a minute." He disappeared into the bedroom and reemerged with a white, cloth sac. As he crossed the living room and headed to the loo he asked, "While we're out, maybe we could grab dinner?"

"With our laundry?" Hermione said. "We really shouldn't leave it unattended." And she didn't really fancy bringing all of her knickers into a restaurant, clean or dirty, in a bag or not.

"We'll figure something out," Fred replied easily. There was a bit of a commotion from within the bathroom as she imagined he was having trouble holding the laundry basket open but a moment later he was back, laundry bag slung over his shoulder. "Ready to go?" he asked.

They trooped out, apparating to an area with which Hermione was more familiar, and they managed to solve the problem of dinner rather quickly with takeaway boxes of Chinese food, which they enjoyed whilst watching their clothes spin round in the washer. Hermione sat with her legs crisscrossed on the seat of her chair, her takeaway box balanced on her knee as she tried to demonstrate to Fred the proper use of chopsticks.

"How do you _know _this?" Fred asked, still fumbling for the proper hold on the sticks.

She reached over and took one of the chopsticks from him. "My dad was a fan of not cooking, and therefore takeaway," she explained. "Now, hold that one like a quill," she instructed, nodding at the one stick he still held. He followed her direction and stilled as she held his hand and placed the other chopstick into his grip. She picked up her own chopsticks and modelled their use. "Like this," she said simply. "That one doesn't move."

He copied her example, feeling like a kid working on his motor skills, holding a quill for the first time and practising his As and Bs. He tried to lift some noodles from his box and failed miserably. "This isn't working."

"You'll get it."

He growled in frustration and she laughed. "I'm hungry," he complained.

She fingered the wand in her pocket, fighting a fit of laughter. "Would you like me to transfigure you a fork?" she offered. The only other people in the laundromat were an elderly woman and two girls who were wrapped up in a riveting conversation about the bloke in the flat below them. She wasn't too worried about getting caught performing magic.

Fred considered before shaking his head. He tried again, holding the utensils tightly. They crossed but managed to catch the noodles in the process and he quickly ducked and got them into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

"You're a natural!" Hermione exclaimed.

He winked at her before returning his attention to another attempt. It felt like only minutes had passed for Hermione as she watched Fred in amusement, and hours for Fred as it took him twice as long to eat his meal, before they had finished eating and the washing machine beeped. The spinning had stopped and Hermione hopped up with a smile. They moved their clothes into a dryer. They were doing two loads, and while Hermione set the clothes to dry Fred put the whites to wash. They sat back down and waited, talking about anything that came to mind and laughing about the strange people Hermione worked with and the odd regulars that came into the joke shop.

By the time the machines beeped and they had to move the clothes again, Hermione was feeling positively warm with laughter. They got the clothes from the dryer and placed them on the single long table in the centre of the room. Hermione set about folding the clothes into neat, squared off stacks by each type of article of clothing. Fred joined her, his arm brushing hers as he picked up a shirt and lay it flat to fold.

"I can do the folding," Hermione said, watching him carefully.

"I can help," Fred returned. He felt her stare and turned to look at her. "What is it?" he asked curiously.

She debated with herself a moment. "Remember when I told you I liked folding?" she said. He nodded, recalling the story of a little Hermione and her laundry. "Well, I'm very particular about it," she told him. "It," she paused, "it needs to be done a certain way."

"Okay," he said slowly. He folded the shirt in front of him carefully and Hermione tried not to wince. He was about to ask if it was okay when he caught her expression. "That isn't right," he guessed.

She bit her lip and shook her head. "I'll fold," she said quickly. "Really."

He ran a hand through his hair. "No, no," he said, "you're not going to fold all of the laundry for the rest of our lives." She eyed the folded shirt, her fingers itching to refold it. He grabbed a t-shirt and put it in front of her, spreading his out on the table again. "Teach me your ways."

The folding lesson was a long one. T-shirts were easy, jumpers were quick, but slacks took a good while and socks were surprisingly tricky. She wouldn't let him touch any of her underwear.

When they had finished folding the first load, the whites were only a minute from being entirely dry and the elderly woman was preparing to leave, the chatty girls already gone. Fred got the door for her, noticing her hands were full and wished her a good evening. Hermione watched as the woman said something to Fred with a smile and patted his arm, giving Hermione a smile as well.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked. Fred sat down next to her with a grin.

"She asked me on a date," he said. "Had to tell her I was married." At her incredulous look he added, "Don't worry, I let her down gently."

Hermione hit his arm lightly, shaking her head at the way his lips quirked up at the corners. "Oh did you now?" she said.

He gave her a smile then, a real, genuine one that told her he was no longer kidding. "She said we reminded her of her and her husband," he told her. "She said you seemed lovely and that I was a fine young gentleman."

"Gentleman?" Hermione repeated teasingly, eyebrows raised and playfully challengingly.

Fred glared, his ever present smile betraying him. "Yes, gentleman. Or at least the same sort of gentleman her husband was."

"Must have been some gentleman," she commented.

"We're a rare breed." The dryer sounded to tell them it was finished and before Hermione could move, Fred was on his feet. "I got it," he said. "It'll be my final exam, see if my folding is up to par." She went to stand anyway, and he pushed her back into her seat with a hand on her shoulder, taking her chin in his hand and kissing her lips quickly. "Sit down, love. I've got it."

* * *

**A/N: oh, I was really supposed to update Lettie before I touched this again but I couldn't resist. I sat down and wrote this in one evening and it just goes to show where inspiration was this week. I've got a bit of WB with Lettie at the moment. Sorry to any readers. On another note I made a cover for this story! Though I believe with the dimensions it may be a bit cut off unfortunately. Ah well. Also, I was considering making an 8tracks playlist for this as there are a few songs I particularly think of when I work on Fred/Hermione and their little moments. If you have any thoughts on the matter I'd love to hear them. Also if you'd be so kind as to indulge me in telling me what your favourite part of this has been thus far I'd be much obliged. I'm sorting out ideas for future chapters. **

**Thanks for reading and please review!**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**

**P.S. you are all so good to me. We're passed 150 reviews! I'd say that's pretty good! Thank you all so much!**


	12. The First Monthiversary

"Happy anniversary."

Hermione jumped and whirled around as she shut the fridge and to see Fred leaning on the counter. He usually got up right as she left for work. It was a strange occurrence that he'd be first to greet her in the morning, it was typically the other way around.

"Anniversary?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Fred said. "We've been married a month. Today makes four weeks."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Okay. That's not really an anniversary though. Anniversary implies the event to be annual and, well, a month isn't annual, now is it?"

Fred chuckled and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Are you always this fun so early in the morning, Hermione?" he joked.

"Sorry." She sipped her tea. "Happy...monthiversary, Fred."

He grinned. "So, do you think we should celebrate?" he asked. "Wining? Dining?"

"You don't even like wine," she recalled. "And I think I might have to bring home a bit of work today. Would you mind if we stayed in?"

Fred shrugged. "I can pick up dinner after we close shop, if you'd like."

"That sounds nice."

"What do you feel like? Italian or fish and chips?" he asked.

"Mmm. Fish and chips," she decided.

"Alright."

She finished her tea and quickly washed out her mug before grabbing her bag and wand. "Bye Fred."

"Forget something?" he asked.

She paused abruptly in her hurry and turned back, looking at him quizzically, dumbfounded.

"No kiss?" Fred said.

"Oh," she said.

He crossed the distance to her and pulled her in by her waist, her wand clattering to the floor as she gripped his shoulder in surprise. He smirked and pressed his lips to hers, his hand slipping into her hair. For a moment she tensed, going rigid in his arms, and then his mouth initiated that first caress and she melted, leaning into him with a sigh.

He smirked against her lips before pulling away. "Can't forget my good morning kiss," he quipped.

"Well, I certainly won't now," she murmured.

Fred followed her to the door with a chuckle, opening it for her as she put on her shoes and then kissing her cheek as she passed him. "Bye Hermione."

"Bye Fred."

Hermione did indeed bring work home with her and Fred, just as he'd said he would, brought home fish and chips.

Hermione looked at the three takeaway containers on the counter as she placed her bag next to the coffee table. "Is George coming over?" she asked.

"Er, he's just stopping by," Fred replied, taking glasses out of the cupboard. "Angelina's gone for the weekend, some sort of job training, so I told him he could pop by and steal dinner."

"Oh." Hermione frowned. "Well, why don't you invite him to stay for a bit?" she suggested.

Fred shrugged. "You have work to do and George and I are...we don't exactly make for a disruptive free environment," he said.

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's okay," she insisted. "I'll work in..." She gestured toward the other bedroom. "My room."

"The spare room you keep your clothes in, you mean?" he asked.

She laughed and nodded. "That would be the one."

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"And you don't have to send George to have dinner by himself. I won't be bothered if you two are out here. So long as you don't blow anything up," she told him. "Or you two could go out for a bit, if you'd like."

"I don't want to leave you alone."

Hermione's eyebrows drew together at that. "I don't need to be watched, Fred," she said. "Honestly. We were joined in marriage not by the hip. If you and George want to go for drinks, you are fully entitled to do so."

"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked.

"I've plenty of work to keep me busy," she replied.

"George can come for dinner then?"

"I'd love to have George over for dinner."

"Even though it's our monthiversary?"

She laughed with a nod. "If it was a real anniversary of sorts, my answer might be different. But, yes, even though it's our monthiversary."

He grinned at her. "It's a completely real versary," he said.

"Whatever you say." She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go change into something comfortable. When will George be here?"

Fred glanced at the time. "Right about now," he said. As if on cue, the front door opened, and his twin strode through. Fred sighed and shook his head. "Georgie, knock," he reminded.

"Oh!" George exclaimed, backing his way over the threshold and preparing for a redeeming second entrance. "Sorry, Hermione."

"Come in, George," Hermione told him with a laugh. "It's okay."

"I forget it's not just you here anymore," George said to his brother. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

She shook her head as she went to get changed. "Really, George, it's alright," she said. "I'll be out in a just a minute." She disappeared into the second room and peeled off her stiff work clothes in favour of sweatpants and a t-shirt, pulling her hair up into a bun. She emerged to see Fred and George seated at the table, the food moved out of the takeaway boxes and onto plates. They we're laughing about something or another, the food untouched as they waited for her.

"Thanks," she said. She took a seat and watched as they immediately tucked in.

Dinner was nice. Boredom just wasn't experienced in the company of the Weasley twins and Hermione was glad to sit and laugh with them after a day in an office. It made for a wonderful reprieve. When plates had been cleared, it was reluctantly that she retired herself to work and sent them on their way for drinks down the street. Though the flat was empty, she still chose to shut herself in what was somewhat 'her' room and sat propped against the headboard, working away as her legs went numb from the weight of the files and books on her thighs. She was trying to gather the research to put together a compelling argument to submit to Louis, her boss. There was an amendment to a law for house elves she had been attempting to bring to attention for a while and Mallory had suggested that she compile the research and draw up the rougher work before meeting with Louis again. Hermione was crossing her fingers, but she knew luck would have little to do with it. She needed to be prepared. Thus her tireless effort.

She read the words on the page before her a few times over before making note of what was important, sighing. It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

"I miss Angie," George complained.

"Quit whinging," Fred said, finishing his butterbeer and leaning back in his seat. The bar was fairly full tonight, loud enough to drown out the music they played but still okay to hold a conversation. Fred wished it was louder. He would have liked to drown out the bout of sappy complaints he felt were about to come from his brother. George wasn't too sentimental, in fact, between the two of them Fred was more likely to be given the title, but when it came to Angelina, George could be a right sap.

"You'd be complaining just as bad if Hermione was gone for the weekend," George pointed out.

Fred considered this, thinking of Hermione's earlier comment about being joined at the hip. A voice at the back of his head told him he had to concede with his twin. "Maybe. But I left her to come here with you, I'm not spending it listening to you moan and gripe about how much you miss your wife."

"The bed's empty without her."

"Shut up, George."

"Do you and Hermione share a bed?"

"Yeah."

"Only shagging once a week?"

"Yeah." Fred shook his head. George's third glass was half-empty and, unlike Fred, he wasn't just drinking butterbeer. As a result, his tact wasn't at its best. Fred sighed.

"What?" George asked in surprise. "I thought things were going well."

"They are," Fred said.

"What about the honeymoon phase then?" George questioned. "What about all of the sex?"

"The ministry didn't demand a honeymoon phase, now did they?" Fred said. "They demanded a marriage."

"Someone's bitter," George commented, throwing back the last of his drink.

"I'm not bitter, I'm just…it's hard being so close to her every night and not being able to…"

George snorted. "I'm sure it's _hard_ alright."

Fred shot him a glare.

But the truth was, it was hard. In every sense. He didn't push, he wouldn't push and he wasn't some depraved creature, as much as he had to remind himself to keep his distance sometimes. But when he curled around her at night, he fought with himself to keep all thoughts innocent and all hands and lips in appropriate places. He didn't want to cross any boundaries with her, not entirely sure where those boundaries lay, and so he waited for her to make the move, as hesitant as she seemed to do so. The week just seemed so long. She was like some sort of addiction. He found himself all but craving her, and some nights it bordered on painful. He couldn't stand himself. He was a gentleman, not an animal. He wouldn't take advantage of her.

George laughed. "Aw, Freddie," he said.

Fred looked around before dropping money on the table. "I should get back. I don't want to wake her," he said. "Are you okay to get home or do you want to crash at ours?"

George shook his head. "I'm fine," he said.

Fred looked pointedly at the empty glasses and then back at his brother. "You sure about that?" he teased, only half-joking really.

George glanced at the glasses as well before nodding. "I'll floo from here. Don't worry about it.

Fred entered the flat quietly, glancing at the clock as he toed off his shoes and then entering the bedroom as silently as possible. The bed was still made and Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Confused, he made his way to the other room and knocked twice before, still awaiting a reply, he cautiously began to enter.

He opened the door to see her surrounded by parchment and file folders, books lying open on the bedspread and muggle pen in her slack hand. Her eyelashes rested on her cheeks, her chin down to her chest, her breathing even and the only soft sound in the room. He couldn't help a smile at the scene. He'd never known Hermione to be one to fall asleep whilst working.

He made his way over to her and cleared the things from on top of and around her, careful to keep all pages open or marked and all parchment in order just in case. As he went to lift her she jumped, startling awake and scrambling away.

He put his hands up and backed away a bit. "Just me," he said.

She let out a long breath. "Fred." Her hand clutched her chest, right over her pounding heart. "Sorry. You…I didn't realize it was you. I'm still a tad…well, it's habit after being on the run." She paused. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"I gathered as much," he said.

She looked around. "I should probably finish this," she said, searching through everything for the notes she'd been writing.

"Hermione, it's late," Fred told her. "Are you sure you don't ought to call it a night?"

"I should—" She found her notes and rubbed at her eyes, blinking blearily as she tried to find her place. She put the parchment down with a sigh and met Fred's expectant stare. "I should go to sleep," she agreed.

Fred nodded. "I could still carry you, if you'd like."

"That's quite alright," she declined. "Thank you."

Hermione was curled up under the covers when Fred had finished in the loo, but she was still awake as he lifted the blankets and slipped into the sheets himself, offering him a small smile.

"Did you have a good time with George?" she asked, her arm sliding across his waist and her head resting on his chest. He was very much aware of her every movement.

He nodded. "Angelina's having a birthday…something or other next weekend," he said. "We're invited if you want to go."

"Oh, that's right," Hermione murmured. "It is her birthday."

"You want to go then?" Fred asked. As he watched Hermione's eyes shut, he wondered if maybe now wasn't the best time for conversation.

"Sure." She sounded fairly awake still. "What do you think Angelina would like for her birthday?"

"I don't know, actually," he said.

"I'll handle the present then," Hermione told him. "Let me know if you think of anything."

"Okay."

"Fred?"

"Yes?"

"Didn't you and George go out for drinks?"

"Yes."

"What did you have to drink then?" she asked curiously. He seemed to have every bit of his wits about him. When Harry and Ron went out to drink, she'd never known them to come back quite so composed as Fred was now.

"Butterbeer," he replied.

Though there was hardly a sound to it, he could feel her light laughter in the darkness. "Oh, Fred."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Fred."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry it's short and rather uninteresting but I think the next chapter could be a bit better. I apologize for any mistakes as I typically edit off of my phone so please point out any errors. Thank you to everyone who reviewed I do love them very much. This story has an 8tracks playlist so if you'd like to check that out you can go to 8tracks dot com (written as a web address obviously) and search fremione and it should be easy enough to find. **

**Thank you for reading and please review! I was kind of hoping to reach 200 and I really think we could! **

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	13. The First Real Look

**Author's Note: Is this pushing an M rating? If it is, please please let me know and I'll edit this out. I don't want to offend anyone and I don't want to break any rules. If you think this constitutes explicit, please say something. Beyond that, please review and let me know what you think! And thank you oodles and boodles to everyone reading and reviewing!**

Hermione spent Saturday leisurely, waking up with Fred to make breakfast and eat before wishing him a good day and crawling back into bed with a book. She stayed in bed until it neared noon, at which point she decided it was time to shower, dress and do something a little more productive. She went grocery shopping and joined Fred and George on their lunch break. After that, she flooed to Harry and Ginny's for a bit of catch up and then returned home to relax on the couch for a bit. Evening rolled around quickly and by five thirty, she'd cracked open her cookbook and began dinner, turning up the stereo and singing along as she fixed orange roughy and stir-fried vegetables.

Fred shut the door behind him with a sigh and kicked off his shoes. "What can I do?" he asked, washing up and drying his hands.

Hermione shook her head. "Should be done in five minutes," she dismissed. "Everything's almost ready."

Fred got out the plates and cutlery. Hermione glanced at him. He looked a little rumpled, sort of exasperated. "Everything alright?" she asked. He'd seemed like himself at lunch.

"Fine," he replied.

She gave him a disbelieving look but said no more as she returned to the vegetables.

"I spent all day, all week really, working on this new product." He shook his head. "Can't for the life of me figure out why it isn't working still."

"Oh." She turned the stove off. "What is it?"

"Gum," he said. "Guise Gum. It's supposed to change a person's voice and appearance but...well, it's not quite doing that at the moment."

Hermione took the pan off of the stove. "Do you need to get back to work then?" she asked. "I could...if you wouldn't mind letting me take a look, I could see if anything comes to mind," she offered.

Fred gave her a smile. "Thanks," he said. "But I'm calling it quits."

"Fred—" she began.

"For today," he clarified. "Try again tomorrow. And I might take you up on that offer."

"Okay."

Fred helped her prepare the two plates and they sat. "So, how was your day?" he asked.

Hermione briefly described all of the non-eventful things she'd done. "All in all it was a good day," she concluded.

Fred nodded. "Sounds like it," he told her. She got the feeling that a part of him was kidding but it didn't surprise her. She didn't think quiet days would particularly appeal to him.

They ate in a mix of both easy conversation and comfortable silence, but as Hermione watched Fred she couldn't help but notice that something wasn't right. He still seemed sort of edgy.

When they finished dinner Hermione told Fred not to worry about cleaning up, though he magicked the dishes to wash themselves anyway. Hermione frowned. "Fred, you're sure you are alright?" she asked.

He nodded, flicking his wand to dry the dishes. She cautiously moved to stand behind him and placed her hands on his tense shoulders, turning him from the sink. Raising herself to her toes, she kissed his lips coaxingly. She drew him closer and curled her fingers in his hair, her tongue swiping across his lips. His hands gripped her waist as the kiss deepened and she moved impossibly closer. He broke away suddenly and his head dropped to her shoulder as he sucked in a deep breath.

"Fred? Is there anything I can—"

He shook his head, though the thought that it was a blatant lie immediately sprung to mind. He shut his eyes and hustled the idea to the back of his mind. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, stepping around her and heading to the loo, raking a hand through his hair as he went. She stared after him in bewilderment before sighing and drying the rest of the dishes. She swept the kitchen as well, though there really wasn't any need for it, and wiped down the counter top. She looked up as she heard Fred finish in the shower. He came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and Hermione bit her lip, her eyes raking over his form as he crossed the distance to the bedroom. She pressed her face into her hands with a groan as she felt herself grow warmer. "Good heavens."

She mentally shook herself.

Entering the bedroom, she saw Fred pacing the floor, clad in a t-shirt and boxers. "Fred," she said decidedly.

He stopped his pacing abruptly.

"What is it you're doing?" she asked.

"I've just...got a lot of...energy," he said. More like pent up frustration.

She laughed lightly.

"Can...can I kiss you?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione nodded and in a flash he had his arms wrapped around her, his mouth on hers, and his hands going through her hair. He pulled her bottom lip gently between his teeth and she gasped, her own arms looping around his neck. His kisses slowed to an unhurried pace and she broke away to take in much needed air. The bed, she thought, the bed would be nice.

As she moved back and lay down, he moved with her, his body following her every movement as though it was a dance. She slid her hands into his hair and brought him towards her, kissing him deeply, sighing into his mouth as his tongue sought hers. One hand slipped down to his chest and she traced over the planes through the soft cotton of his t-shirt before finding the bottom of it and tugging. She broke the kiss to order softly, "Off," and he complied by sitting up and quickly removing the shirt before returning to her. His lips found her neck, patterning kisses, licks and nips down to her collarbone. She let out a low hum of approval at his attentions. He shifted against her as his hands prepared to rid her of her top and she felt his arousal press against her thigh. She smiled. She never ceased to feel slightly pleased at being able to elicit such a reaction from him, and he noticed.

"Don't look so smug," he said teasingly.

She blushed and he shook his head, lifting the hem of her shirt and helping her out of it. As he went on to kiss her exposed skin, his hands running over every inch of her, she toyed with the waistband of his pants, not quite suggesting but a little bit thoughtfully.

Fred sensed her distraction and pulled away, looking down at her. "Something you want?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, to which question he wasn't sure. "I'm good," she said, reaching to bring him closer again, one hand staying by his hip.

"Hermione, if there's something you'd like...tell me," he said.

She blushed a deep red and he knew that there really was something. He waited. "I was just...wondering..." She bit her bottom lip and looked away. "Can I touch you?" she asked, quickly though undoubtedly unsure.

He watched her carefully before nodding, "Of course. Please," his body instantaneously reacting to the thoughts her question evoked. She smiled shyly in response and then gently, she pushed him onto his back. She licked her lips and began her exploration, kissing his shoulder, the muscles of his abdomen, hands roaming languidly, lightly, across his freckled skin. She traced the thin line of hair that led down to the elastic of his pants. His eyes fell shut and a moment later he felt her hesitance. Before he could say anything she had decidedly pulled down on his boxers and freed him from that last restraint. He kicked the article away unceremoniously.

Her stare was calculating, he could practically feel it. "May I?" she asked carefully.

"By all means," he said, his voice gravelly in his haze.

She wiped her sweating palms on her thighs and then touched him lightly, carefully. He took in a sharp breath as she wrapped her hand about his shaft and she quickly retracted it.

"Did that hurt—"

He shook his head quickly. "No," he said. "No, it felt good."

She bit her lip. "Fred," she began, "do you think you could teach me how to, um..."

It took him a second to realize what she was asking. "Hermione, I don't want you to feel like you ever have to—"

"I don't," she said. "But...I'd kind of like to. I...I just don't know how."

She looked shy, though determined, and sincere in her words. He nodded, swallowed thickly, and took her hand, guiding it back to his erection and moving it with his own. Once he thought she had gotten the hang of it, his hand left hers and she continued with the same smooth motion he'd led. She watched Fred with interest. It was fascinating, the way his body moved under her touch, the sounds that passed his lips, how his hands curled in tight fists and his eyes were heavy-lidded. She was enthralled. She felt manipulative, in control, and excited to see the response her actions drew from him, going on her most primal instinct and taking cues from his reactions.

When her name came forth from a place deep back in his throat, followed by a groan, she felt every bit of her go aflame with the sound. Her gaze went from her messy hand to his content expression and she couldn't help but feel a tad satisfied with herself.

Fred's mind cleared gradually and it took him a moment to regain himself before he sat up and reached for his wand, scourgifying her hand and falling back against the pillows. "Thanks," she said, blushing.

"Thank _you_," he told her.

"So...it was good then?"

He laughed. "Hermione, that's probably the only stupid question you've ever asked."

She watched as he pulled up his pants. "Oh."

Fred sat up once again and shook his head at her. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked.

For a moment, she wondered if she could ask him to tell her, if she could get an answer that might tell her for certain if everything she felt was equally felt by him. Before her mind and lips could coordinate a response, his own lips had captured hers and were playing with them in a way that was both soft and forceful at once. It was only within seconds that her mind lost all grip on coherent thoughts as his hands wove into her hair and traced up her spine, slowly bringing her to lie back with him.

She went without protest, allowing him to flip them so she lay beneath him and giving him rein to take over. He kissed her collarbone, her neck, her jaw and then that spot just beneath her ear that earned him a soft purr from her as his lips worked over the warm skin. His hands found the button of her jeans and deftly undid it, pulling down the zipper and urging her to wriggle her way out of the clothing. Her hips lifted to oblige him and she kicked them away. He soon rid of her last bits of underwear and, just as she had each time before, she quickly pulled him down to kiss her, despite his slight resistance.

Fred relented to her kiss, his mouth melding to hers. But it was all too soon, she thought, that he pulled away. She looked up at him, confused and uncertain. "What—"

Fred cut her off with a shake of his head. He sat back, knelt between her legs. "I just want to get a real look at you for once."

At his gaze she impulsively moved to cover herself but he leaned forward and stopped her, his hands gently yet firmly closing on her wrists and directing them above her head. Satisfied that they'd stay where he left them, he returned to his earlier position and his eyes travelled the length of her, from her warm brown eyes to the curve of her waist, down her smooth slender legs to her bare feet . He could feel himself stirring to arousal once again but he ignored it.

"Sweet Merlin," he breathed. She blushed and he saw how the blood spread first through her cheeks and then continued to her chest. "Hermione, you're..." he fought and failed to come up with a better adjective to suffice, "you're beautiful."

She licked her lips, unbeknownst to her, enticingly slowly and he mirrored the action. His hand splayed flat against her tense stomach, sliding to her waist, and he began to trace her, outlining every bit of her figure with featherlight touches of his fingers and soft caresses by his palms. Where his hands led his lips were oft soon to follow.

She succumbed to the sensation, meeting his gaze as it sought hers and giving in to her sighs and moans, letting him wear her patience out in the best way possible with his slow attentions.

He looked up at her. "Ravishing," he said. "That's what. You're absolutely ravishing."

"Hm?" she hummed breathlessly, barely hearing the words.

His lips brushed against hers once more, a smirk playing across them as he leaned back, and then he proceeded to show her just how ravishing she was.


	14. The First Argument

Hermione undressed for her shower, sighing as she glanced at the laundry basket. His shirts never managed to make their way entirely in the basket, she noted. There was always a sleeve, tail, or corner of some sort trying to climb its way out from beneath the lid.

She flipped the top and stuffed the shirt in, along with the stray sock beside the basket, before adding her own clothes. She needed to stop bringing home so much work, she thought. She had been feeling unbelievably tired in the last couple of days and waking herself up in the mornings felt like a bit of a struggle. She ran the water a moment, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and then hopped under the stream and let out a contented, "Ah."

Hermione took really long showers. Fred really needed to pee. This was a problem.

He had started waking up earlier, because Hermione woke up earlier and on weekdays he liked to see her before she left for work. But for whatever reason, this meant he had to pee earlier.

He was trying to think dry thoughts.

He heard the washroom door click open and he practically leapt out of bed. Hermione was startled by his sudden appearance as she went towards the bedroom.

"You take longer showers than Ginny," he said.

"I have a lot of hair," she told him. "Good morning."

"Morning."

She kissed his cheek quickly. "Bye. Have a nice day."

"You too." He rushed off towards the loo.

"What time are we leaving for Angelina's?" she called.

The door shut and Fred's voice sounded from the other side. "Six!"

* * *

The shop was rather uneventful for the day, or at least as uneventful as a magical jokeshop could be. Fred came home to see Hermione asleep on the couch. She was curled up under a blanket, a faint frown on her lips and her eyebrows drawn together just a tad. He touched her shoulder gently, knowing how jumpy she could be, and said her name.

Her eyes blinked open and she looked up curiously. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She sat up. "I haven't made us late, have I?" she said. "I'm sorry, I was feeling a little drowsy and I—"

"No worries," Fred interrupted. "We've got about ten minutes. I just have to change."

"Oh." Hermione tossed the blanket off of her. "Is this okay?" she asked, looking down at her outfit.

Fred took in the dark jeans and cream top. "You look gorgeous," he told her.

"Thank you."

"Do you need a jacket?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think I left my blazer in the bedroom."

"I'll get it," he told her. "I'll be out in a minute."

Hermione was surprised to find that a minute literally meant a minute as Fred reemerged but a moment later in a blue button down and jeans, her jacket hung over his arm. He held it open for her and she grabbed her bag, slipping her bare arms into the sleeves and stepping into her shoes. They headed out together, apparating from outside of the flat to a point just a couple of minutes walk from the restaurant at which they were eating.

As their feet touched ground, Hermione gripped her turned stomach. "Goodness."

"Alright?" Fred questioned in concern.

She nodded.

She didn't quite look alright. "Hermione, are you sure—?"

"I'm okay," she insisted. "Mallory and I took a late lunch. I guess my stomach hasn't settled."

Fred nodded and she shook off the feeling, taking his hand and heading off towards the restaurant.

It was chic, for lack of a better word, and the crowd was fun. Hermione knew just a handful of the people occupying the long table. She sat between Fred and a team mate of Angelina's, but thus far she had engaged in conversation with Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and was briefly reintroduced to Oliver Wood along with his fiancée. Fred and George were, as always, the life of the party and as they brought up old stories and teased each other and Angelina, all in good fun, they had everyone laughing.

They had finished dinner and Angelina had just opened her last present, Hermione had been pleased that the girl seemed to like the tote bag she'd picked out, when George kissed Angelina's cheek and called everyone to attention. "Have you all heard of the club that opened on…"

"Queen Street," Lee chipped in.

"That's the one!" George exclaimed. "We're thinking we keep the night strong and head over for drinks and dancing. What do you say?"

An affirmative cheer later and they were off and on their way to what Hermione was told was a club called 'Silk'. It wasn't a far walk by any means, and the large group of them went out together into what had turned out to be a rather humid, though comfortably cool, evening. Hermione was chatting with Katie as they entered the queue, standing behind girls in skimpy dresses and guys metres ahead who wore what smelled like litres of cologne.

Katie lowered her voice. "I just don't understand what they're thinking," she said, shooting a subtle look at the girls in line.

Hermione laughed. "Their legs must be freezing," she commented.

"Now, how're they going to dance when they can't feel their spider legs?" Katie giggled.

They shuffled forward in the queue and a bouncer came down the line. Hermione watched as he moved ropes and allowed certain people into the building. She raised an eyebrow and Katie explained. "They like to keep ratios," she said. "They let girls in to attract more blokes. Tonight girls get in free."

"Oh." Hermione watched as the bouncer, a dark-skinned, overly muscular man, approached them.

"Okay," he boomed. "Ladies, I can let five of you in." His eyes raked over Katie, Hermione and Angelina appraisingly.

Angelina glanced back at her team mates before smiling slyly. "It's my birthday," she told the man. "Surely, there's space for all of us. Pretty please?"

The man sighed. "How many of you are there?"

"Thirteen," Angelina replied with a winningly hopeful smile.

"Alright. But your blokes cause any trouble and I'll have you all out," he warned.

Alicia laughed and turned a mockingly stern stare on the boys. "You hear that?" she sang. "Best behaviour boys."

Angelina laughed as the ropes were pulled aside to let them all through. George smacked Angelina's bum as they passed the bouncer and she jumped, poking a finger to his chest. "Behaviour, George," she reminded teasingly.

"That was for batting your eyes at Mr. Bounce," he said.

"It got us in, didn't it?" Angelina quipped. "You keep those hands to yourself, before you get us _all_ in trouble."

"You going to punish me?" George grinned.

"Ugh. We _can _hear you two," Lee said in passing, heading straight to the bar.

Fred touched Hermione's arm as her eyes swept around for him, having lost sight of him as they filtered into the dim lighting and loud, pulsing music. "Hey," he said. "Do you want something to drink?"

Hermione paused in thought. Her stomach was feeling a little off and though those pink fruit drinks looked tempting, she shook her head in decline. "No, thanks. I'm…I need the loo. I'll be back," she said.

Fred nodded. "I'll be here."

Hermione wove through the crowds of people and around the dance floor until she spotted the women's sign and made a beeline for the door beneath it. Pushing through the door, she was met by a number of women around the sinks, preening in front of the mirrors, pulling their necklines down and their hemlines up. And then there was somebody retching, awful sounds emanating from the last stall, a putrid stench filling the lavatory. Hermione suddenly felt like vomiting herself.

Fred was, as promised, just where she'd left him, along with Oliver and Lee. She had to say his name twice before he heard her over the music and turned toward her.

"Hey," he said. "You're back. Still don't want that drink?"

She shook her head. "Actually, I'm going to head out," she said.

His expression shifted. "What? Why?"

"I'm not feeling very well," she told him honestly.

"You're heading out, Hermione?" Lee asked.

"No, you can't leave yet," Oliver said, seemingly tipsy already. "We're just getting the night started!"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry. I'm going to go find Angelina and say goodbye."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Fred offered.

Hermione looked around. "No," she said. "No, you stay. Have a good time."

Fred looked conflicted a moment but nodded. "Alright. I'll see you at home then," he said. "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she said.

He leaned down to kiss her lips chastely. "Okay."

Hermione went off to the bar to say goodbye to Angelina and George, hugging the birthday girl and wishing her well. Disappointed to see her leave, they tried to tempt her with cosmopolitans but when she laughed and shook her head once more they gave in and Angelina walked her out.

"You're sure you can't stay awhile?" she asked.

Hermione smiled at the question but declined. "I think I need to go home and get some rest," she said. "Sorry."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Angelina dismissed. "I'll see you, then. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me," Hermione returned.

"Are you alright to get home?" Angelina asked carefully. "Do you need to call-"

"I'm fine," Hermione interrupted. "Haven't had anything to drink."

"Okay. Well, I hope you feel better then."

"Thank you. And happy birthday."

Hermione apparated home and changed into her pyjamas, washed her face and brushed her teeth before curling up in bed and drifting off to sleep. It felt like only moments later that she jolted awake at the sound of the front door rattling. She reached for her wand and caught a glimpse of the time. It was nearly four in the morning. She heard the door open and a bang, followed by an expletive or two, and then a bit of stumbling.

Fred entered the bedroom, opening the door quietly, though it served no purpose at this point. Hermione was wide awake.

He looked at her. "Sorry." Something about him told her he was a bit sloshed. Perhaps he'd indulged in a few too many umbrella drinks.

She shook her head. "It's fine." She watched as he stripped down to his boxers and got into his sleepwear. As he left for the loo she rolled over and closed her eyes once again. Fred was back and slipping into bed beside her just a few minutes later, fast asleep in mere seconds. She spent the next two hours wishing she could have done the same, tossing and turning and trying in vain to get settled once again.

By seven thirty she had given up entirely, resigned herself to her lack of sleep, and gotten out of bed. She heated herself a mug of milk and settled into the crook of the couch with a book. Leaning back and folding into herself, she focused in on her reading as the milk warmed through her.

Hours later Fred woke up and left the bedroom to see her asleep on the couch a second time, mug empty beside her and book still held in hand. He repositioned her a bit so she'd be more comfortable, took a potion for his pounding headache, and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice before beginning breakfast. He had bacon frying, eggs cooking and toast buttered and waiting when Hermione stirred.

"Oh Merlin," she said.

"Good morning," Fred greeted. "Sleep well?"

The smell was overpowering. The oil, the grease. She felt positively-she leapt up and ran for the loo, just making it to the toilet in time to whip her hair back and empty the minimal contents of her stomach. "Ugh." She groaned, getting to her feet as she heard Fred following after her.

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

She flushed the toilet hastily and rinsed her mouth. Fred stood in the doorway as she began scrubbing her teeth. "Hermione, are you alright?"

"I think I've caught a flu," she murmured, spitting foamy mint into the sink and rinsing her mouth once more.

"A flu?" Fred asked. "Maybe you should go back to bed? Get some rest?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously, dropping her toothbrush in the cup beside the sink and crossing her arms. "Well, that'd be easier if you weren't woken up at all odd hours of the night," she said.

Fred's looked taken aback by her sudden change in demeanour. "All hours of the night?" he asked.

"You came home at four o'clock," she pointed out. "Sloshed, no less."

"I wasn't sloshed," Fred contradicted, confused.

"You always run into your own front door then?" Hermione asked.

"Are you upset because I didn't come home with you last night?" Fred asked, trying to piece things together. "I did ask if you wanted me to—"

"I'm not upset," Hermione cut in.

"It sounds like you are."

"I'm not."

"Hermione."

"Don't…don't say my name that way. I'm not upset," she said. "I just don't appreciate being woken up at four in the morning. I couldn't go back to sleep and you have no idea how exhausted I've been over the past couple of days. And now I'm sick, and exhausted, and probably sick _because _I'm exhausted." She leaned back against the sink.

"And you're saying that's my fault for coming home late?" Fred asked.

"I'm not saying—"

"Hermione, you've been up late nearly every other day this week _working_. That isn't my fault."

"I didn't say it was your fault!" she exclaimed.

"Look, I didn't mean to wake you up this morning," Fred told her. "I'm sorry."

"What were you doing until four in the morning anyway?" she asked thoughtlessly.

"We were out," Fred said as though that explained. "I was with George and Angelina and everyone. You told me to stay!"

"I didn't know you'd be out until four!" Hermione said. "Who stays out until four in the morning‽"

"We were having a good time!" he exclaimed.

"Fred—"

"What time was I supposed to be home for then?" he asked. "It's not like you were waiting up for me."

"No, I wasn't, because I was so tired I went straight to sleep until you came home and—"

"Damn it!" Fred turned and walked out of the loo.

Hermione's mouth opened indignantly as she stared at his back. "Well, don't just—" she started angrily.

"Something's burning," Fred said.

She followed him out to the kitchen where there was, in fact, a bit of smoke rising from the pan on the stove. Fred cursed and pulled it off of the burner. "Bacon's burned," he said flatly.

"Good riddance," she muttered.

Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it smelled nearly rancid anyway," she said.

"Bacon," Fred told her. "It smelled like bacon."

"It smelled awful," she stated. She fought gagging as the scent lingered along with the smoke and she went for her wand to clear the air. She sat down on the couch with a sigh and continued. "Fred, I'm not angry, okay? It doesn't matter what time you were out until, or what you were doing out with Angelina's friends-"

"Angelina's friends?" Fred said. "I was hanging out with Lee, Katie and George."

"It doesn't matter. That isn't the point, I just—"

"It doesn't matter?" he asked. "You wouldn't care if I was out with Angelina's friends? If I was at the bar with a bunch of women?"

Hermione fought the twinge of jealously. "I'm not telling you what you can and can't do," she said.

"You're not. I'm asking you a question. Would you care if I was out with Angelina's friends?" Fred asked clearly.

Hermione debated with herself. "That's not my place," she replied finally.

Fred threw his hands up in exasperation. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione!" he yelled. He vanished the unsalvagaeable bacon and dropped the pan in the sink. "You're my wife! It _is _your place!"

Her lips pursed and he rounded first the counter and then the couch to stand in front of her. "Yes," she blurted. "Yes, it would bother me. If you were doing anything less than innocent, yes, I would care. Are you happy?"

"Immensely." She didn't hear him as she sighed and pulled her hands through her hair. "So, is that what all of this is about then?" Fred asked. "Because I came home late?"

"No," Hermione said. "I'm just exhausted and sick. I feel sleep deprived from being woken up, uncomfortable from having fallen asleep on the couch, and…the flat still smells like bacon and it's making me feel even more nauseated."

Fred sat down next to her and touched the back of his hand to her forehead. He looked puzzled for a moment. "Hermione, when was your last period?" he asked.

She gave him an incredulous look. "Why is it that whenever a woman gets even a little bit irritated men have to assume it's because of her period?" she demanded.

Fred shook his head. "I'm not asking if you're PMSing," he told her. "I'm asking if you're pregnant."

"What?" she said. "I can't be pregnant."

He smirked. "Now, we both know that's not true."

* * *

**A/N: okay. I don't even know what to say here. I'm hoping to hear from all of you and get your opinions on this. I don't know if I like how this chapter turned out. Also, my apologies to anyone waiting on a Lettie update. I'm experiencing quite the WB with that. **

**Oh! Thank you to everyone who reviewed this, as well as all readers, we've surpassed 200 reviews! It was very exciting. Thank you all so much. **

**Anyways, **

**Scarlett**


	15. The First Result

Hermione took a deep breath and thought quietly. Her mind was reeling. She was having trouble placing exactly when her last period was, she was piecing together all of the early pregnancy symptoms she could recall. She was finding that it all seemed more and more likely. Fred watched her with a sort of nervous expectancy. "Maybe..." she said. "I..." She looked down at her tummy. "I can make an appointment with Vivian."

"Today?" Fred asked. She looked at his anxious expression.

"Well, I don't think I could I go in today," she said. "I imagine she'll need some notice. I can floo for tomorrow maybe."

Fred nodded slowly but his expression didn't change.

Hermione bit her lip. "Muggles have a...an at home test." She paused. "I could get one of those," she offered.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"It's harmless," she said. "I can go and be back in a few minutes."

"Could we go now?" he asked.

Hermione paused. "I'll go," she said. "You stay here. Maybe finish breakfast? I won't be long."

"Okay." Fred nodded eagerly. "Is there anything you'd like for breakfast? Or anything you…wouldn't like?"

Hermione stood from the couch and looked around. "Not bacon," she said decidedly.

"Okay," Fred agreed. "I can work with that."

Hermione pulled on jeans and threw a sweater over her pyjama shirt before getting her coat as well and heading out. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for. She bought three different tests and then made the quick trip home.

Fred had made eggs, toast and fried potatoes. He turned expectantly at the sound of her apparating. "Did you get the—?"

She drew a package of her bag and held it up to show him. "Mhm," she said. "I'll just...the results should only take a few minutes."

Hermione disappeared into the bathroom, opened the test, followed the instructions exactly, and then washed her hands and went to eat breakfast. "And?" Fred asked anxiously.

"Five minutes until the result appears," she said. "I'm sort of hungry. Do you mind if we eat?" She wasn't entirely sure how she planned to eat with a knotted stomach but she didn't think she could handle staring at the clock for five minutes either. She wasn't even sure she was ready to see the result yet. She just needed a distraction, a moment to collect herself.

"Uh, sure." Fred pulled a hand through his hair. "Yeah." They glanced at the time and then sat down for breakfast.

Hermione continued to stare down at her plate nervously, continuously forking her food and returning and bringing it halfway to her mouth before changing her mind. Fred couldn't help eyeing the clock anxiously every few seconds. When the second hand ticked a full circle for the sixth time, he couldn't help himself. "Do you think we could—?"

"Yes," she agreed, already out of her seat and returning to the loo, picking up the test and checking the instructions for the umpteenth time. She felt as though her insides were spinning.

"Did it work?" Fred called. She heard his chair scoot back and a moment later he was in the doorway, eyebrows raised. "Are you...?"

Her eyes went from the test to the instructions and back again. She nodded.

"You're pregnant?" Fred asked.

"I'm pregnant," she confirmed.

He let out a long breath and Hermione watched his expression carefully, her own eyes wide and her bottom lip between her teeth. Fred shook his head at her, his face splitting into a smile. He pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her to her toes before releasing her to stare down at her expression.

"You're not upset, are you?" he asked.

She looked down at herself before meeting his eyes. "You don't think it's too soon?" she asked. He watched the way her eyes welled and worried his own reaction had been unwelcome.

He formed his words thoughtfully. "I think everything happens for a reason," he said. "And I think you'll be a great mum. And I want to be a dad." Fred's hand laced with hers and squeezed. "Hermione, did you not want—"

"No," she said quickly. Catching his expression, she hurried to elaborate. "No, I want to be a mum. I want to have a child. I just...Ginny's right. This is terrifying. There's a little being inside of me."

Fred grinned. "There is, isn't there?"

How was he so calm? "You're not scared?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm petrified," he assured. "But I'm happy, and that's sort of outweighing everything else right now." He brought a hand to her cheek and tucked a curl behind her ear. He bent to kiss her and she met him halfway, taking comfort in the feel of his soft lips against her own, enjoying it, absorbing him as she pressed closer.

She offered a small smile as she stared up at him, meeting his sparkling eyes. "I'm happy, too."

* * *

"Did you tell George?" Hermione asked. She fixed the two sandwiches she'd made on plates and set them on the table.

"Yeah," Fred said. "But he won't tell anyone."

Hermione nodded as Fred got the pumpkin juice and glasses. "Ginny's making her announcement on Sunday," she said, which was about time really. Nearing four months pregnant, Ginny really couldn't hide it much longer. Fred had promised to behave as surprised as everyone else come Sunday lunch. "I think we should wait a while before saying anything," Hermione said, sitting down at the table with Fred.

"Might be fun having a secret," he said. "Sorry I couldn't keep it from him."

"Fred, it's George," Hermione said. "I didn't expect you to. Honestly, if I'd known, I might've invited him for the test as well."

Fred laughed, thanking her for the sandwich and taking a bite. "He says congratulations."

"He didn't want to come up for lunch?" Hermione questioned.

Fred shook his head. "He's…" He seemed to debate with himself, "uh, well, he's happy for us, but he gets a little...melancholy," he explained. "Angelina can't have kids, so..."

"Oh." Hermione's expression fell. "I hadn't known that. When did they..."

"Right after they got married," Fred filled in. "They would've married anyway though. And there's still a chance they'll conceive. The healers say it's very unlikely though."

"They wanted kids?" Hermione asked.

Fred chewed and swallowed before replying. "George did," he said. "Angie wasn't too concerned about it."

"That's awful." Hermione frowned. "Oh, George."

"Ah," Fred drew out. "He's...he's okay about it. Just with everyone around him with kids on the way, some of them not even wanting kids, it gets to him. With our friends, he's happy for them, but I mean, I'm his brother. It's different. And like you said, it's a little soon."

"Oh."

Fred nodded. "Yeah," he said. "They haven't told anyone though, so if you could—"

"No, I won't mention it," she promised.

"Thanks."

She took a slow sip of her pumpkin juice to wash down a bite of her sandwich and they ate quietly a moment. "So, are you coming with me on Monday then?" she asked. She'd made an appointment at St. Mungo's to see Vivian for nine o'clock.

"Yep," Fred said with a nod. "I'll just stay to close up so George can leave earlier."

"Okay." She smiled. "Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me, Hermione," Fred told her with a shake of his head. "I want to go, remember? I want to go to all of the appointments."

"From what I hear," she said, "not all husbands are quite so involved."

"I want to be involved," Fred said. "I know from here on out I can't do much of the work," he told her, "blokes just aren't built for that, but whatever you need, I'm here to help. Anything I can do."

"Anything?" she asked with a smile.

"Anything within means," he amended. "And just an inch or two beyond that."

She looked at her lap, blushing. "Fred?" she said.

"Hm?" He wiped crumbs from his mouth as he finished off his lunch and downed the rest of his juice.

"I'm sorry for getting upset this morning," she apologized.

"I thought you weren't upset," he reminded with a smirk. She glared at him half-heartedly and he laughed. "I'd forgotten all about that," he said.

"Oh?" she asked.

He shrugged. "There were bigger things to think about." After a second's pause he went on. "And I'm sorry for waking you up."

"I suppose it's only going to get worse," Hermione said with a light laugh. There wasn't much humour to it. "The fatigue. The nausea. The hormones," she listed.

"You're not looking forward to it?" he asked jokingly.

She raised an eyebrow. "It'll all be worthwhile, no doubt about that, but, no," she replied. "Not at all."

Fred's mouth pulled up in a half smile as he looked at her. Not that he planned to tell her, but he was kind of looking forward to it all himself. If he could save her from the discomfort and illness, he would, but as he couldn't, he was looking forward to being the one to help her through all of it. He had proactively found his own silver lining in dealing with her hormones and pregnancy side effects: he had the opportunity to take care of her. Hermione was probably the most capable woman he knew, and while he thought that was rather admirable, he was sort of excited to be both expectant father and loving husband in one. He wanted to take care of Hermione and the child she carried. He wanted to know about every little bit of it and be there every step of the way. He wanted to be the best husband. He wanted to be the best dad.

"Not even a little bit?" he asked.

Her mouth twisted into a thoughtful smile. "Maybe the littlest bit."

* * *

Hermione lay in bed that night with too many thoughts, wrapped up warmly in the sheets and waiting for Fred to turn out the light. She had gotten into bed early to try and make up for lost sleep, but it seemed to be in vain as she couldn't quell her mind long enough to fall into peaceful slumber. She stared down at her tummy contemplatively. Pregnant. She was still having trouble wrapping her mind around it. A little person was growing inside of her. Equal parts her and Fred. A baby. Their baby.

She wanted a child, she did. She knew that. She'd always known that. But she had to wonder if they were really ready to have one so soon. As pretty a thought it was to think they'd form the perfect team, that everything would be glowing and beautiful and _right_ with them, she wasn't quite sure. That doubt wormed through her slowly and unpleasantly, leaving a lingering sick feeling within her. It has to be too good to be true, she thought. Things just didn't happen this way. They didn't. They couldn't.

Fred pulled his t-shirt over his head and rubbed his towel over his wet locks, making his hair stick up in every which way. He hung his towel behind the door and crawled into bed beside her, giving her a lopsided grin as he turned on his side to face her. "Hey," he said.

Hermione was shaken from her thoughts. "Hi," she replied.

His grin widened.

"What?" she asked, eyes narrowing and lips quirking upwards, her worries slowly drifting back in her mind.

"You're pregnant," he said.

She nodded. "I know."

He placed a hand on her abdomen, splaying his fingers wide and flat. She gave him a questioning look. "You know, if I have a baby bump quite so soon," she told him, "we should be worried."

He flipped the covers down and placed his hand back where it had been, feeling the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin material of her long-sleeve. His hand smoothed over her tummy. "No bump," he assured.

She laughed and shook her head. "Are you sure?" she asked teasingly.

He lifted the hem of her shirt with a grin and his hand repeated its pattern on her soft, bare skin. She let out a faint sigh at his touch. "No bump," he confirmed.

"That's a relief."

His hands found her hips and he shifted, pressing a kiss to the creamy skin of her abdomen. He looked up to see her watching him with a small, bemused smile. "Amazing," he murmured.

She ran a hand through is still damp hair, and he grinned, returning to his pillow, his hand lingering on her skin. She closed her eyes and placed her smaller, softer hand atop his. "Amazing," she agreed.

* * *

**A/N: You are all the most incredible readers. Honestly. Over twenty reviews for the last chapter and well over two hundred people following this story. Incredible. I love hearing for you guys and I hope you'll keep them coming. Hopefully this chapter wasn't a disappointment to anyone. Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see happen in future chapters.**

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**

**p.s. the title of this chapter is a work in progress. If you have a suggestion that does not involve the word pregnant or any derivative of it, please let me know!**


	16. The First Massage

"Four weeks."

"Four?"

Vivian nodded with a smile. "Congratulations, you're about four weeks along."

"But...my period...I could have sworn," Hermione stammered, blushing slightly as Fred looked to her in confusion.

"Oh, no worries," Vivian said. "Bleeding just after conception is quite common. Nothing to worry about."

"The blood?" Hermione prompted.

"Implantation bleeding," Vivian explained. "It happens. Some women hardly notice it. Others do mistake it for the start of their period."

"I've always been kind of irregular," Hermione said.

Vivian nodded. "Understandable. Do you have any more questions, then?"

Hermione sat up on the patient table and shook her head, Fred negated this as well.

"Alright then," Vivian said with a smile. "Hermione, we'll be giving you two more potions you'll have to start taking. One to ease the nausea, and one for supplements." Hermione silently thanked the heavens for magic. "Make sure you get those before you leave," Vivian continued, "and you may stop taking the last potion. We'll get your forms signed and send the pregnancy verification to the ministry and then you're good to go."

"Thank you," Hermione said.

Fred stood. "I'll fill out the forms," he said, turning to Hermione. "You go ahead and get changed."

She nodded and Vivian told him to head to the receptionist and ask for the ministry forms. Hermione faced the wall as she slipped back into her clothes and rid herself of the hospital gown.

"Things are well?" Vivian asked.

"Brilliant," Hermione replied. "This is...really exciting actually."

"Happy to be a mother?" Vivian said.

Hermione laughed. "Well, relatively soon to be mother, yes." She put on her coat and picked up her bag.

Vivian shook her head. "A mother becomes a mother the moment she finds out she's pregnant," she recited. "A father becomes a father when he first holds his baby."

"Maybe in most cases," Hermione said. "I don't know about Fred though. He's been...he's very enthusiastic."

"Well, that's refreshing," Vivian commented sincerely. "It's too often we see men come through here, or rather avoid coming through here, and they're just not interested."

Hermione shook her head. "He's far from that. He's been wonderful. In fact, I think I need more encouraging and reassuring than he does right now." She laughed lightly.

Vivian opened a cupboard and began to sort through vials as she spoke over her shoulder. "Well, that's lovely to hear. I think you two will be outstanding parents. Congratulations once again." Vivian handed her two new vials and gave her instructions to take a drop of each once in the morning and once in the evening every day and to return to refill it at least a few days before running out completely. Hermione noted all of this quickly and put the vials in her bag, heading out to the reception area where Fred was still scribbling away at forms.

He looked up as she came to stand in front of him and smiled. "Got everything?" he asked.

She nodded. "Almost done?" She looked at the forms. He'd filled out their full names, date of births, places of birth, date of marriage, the date of their first healer appointment and their latest appointment as well as their address.

"Almost," he agreed. "I'm putting George as one of the emergency contacts. I'd assumed you'd want Harry, but if there's someone—"

"Harry's fine," she said.

"And..." He paused, consulting the forms once more before glancing up at her. "I don't know your parents' names," he admitted. "I couldn't—"

"Oh. Is that necessary?" she asked. "I mean, really, they won't need to reach them and—"

"I think it's a...lineage thing," Fred told her.

"Well, do they want their real names or what they think their names are?" she said, frowning, her voice going out on her a bit.

"Whatever leads to you," he replied. "Granger, I'd think."

"Oh," she said softly. "Andrew and Eileen Granger, then."

He wrote the names quickly and signed the form before handing it to her to sign as well. She neatly penned her signature beside his and returned the parchment to the desk, thanking the grouchy receptionist before following Fred to the floos.

Upon arriving in the flat, Fred kicked off his shoes and took a running start, launching himself over the back of the couch and landing on the cushions with a dull thump. Hermione laughed and shook her head, taking off her coat and hanging it in the closet. "Shouldn't you be going back to the shop?" she asked. "It's only four o'clock."

"Verity's in," he dismissed. "She and George can handle it. I'll go in a bit to close up."

Hermione took the vials out of her bag and left her bag at the door. "I'm going to put these in the cabinet over the sink," Hermione warned, holding up the contained liquids and making her way towards the loo. "Careful, okay? I don't want them to break."

"Got it," he said. "Do you start taking those today?"

Hermione reappeared from the washroom. "I suppose so. Remind me after dinner?"

"Will do," he agreed. He looked at the space beside him. "Come join me," he beckoned.

She complied, taking the other half of the couch as she curled her legs beside her and leaned against the armrest. He looked over at her. She seemed a little too far out of reach for his liking. Coming to a decision, his hand gently closed around her ankle and tugged.

"Oh!" she said in surprise, jumping and allowing him to pull her leg out towards him. He did the same with her other leg and though she gave him a strange look he merely grinned back at her.

"What are you—" He drew her feet into his lap and she twisted round so she sat back against the couch's arm. "Fred?"

His thumb pressed into the arch of her foot and stroked up the length of her sole. As he began kneading and massaging, she let out a sigh, her head lolling to the side and her eyes closing contentedly. She would have never thought she'd like someone touching her feet—in fact, she could have sworn she hated it—and yet, she let him continue on, not minding in the slightest as his knuckles rolled against the arch of her foot and his thumbs kneaded her heel. She liked this, she decided with a hum, she liked this a lot.

His hands travelled up to her calf and he squeezed, his hands working absolute magic. "Hermione?"

"Mhm?" His hands left her and her eyes opened, the slightest pout taking her lips involuntarily. He chuckled and set to work on her other foot, watching her eyes close once more.

"When can we go house hunting?" he asked.

"Mm. Pardon?"

"Do you remember when we talked about looking for house?" he asked. "You said we should get comfortable living together first before moving somewhere else and…"

"I remember," she murmured.

"Well?" He kneaded the sole of her foot and she nearly moaned. "Are we comfortable living together? Do you think we could look at houses now?"

"I…I do like it here," she said. She yawned and settled further into the cushions as Fred removed her socks and played with her toes a moment.

He grinned. "As happy as I am to hear that, I want to move," he told her.

Hermione frowned. "Move where?" she asked.

"Into a house," Fred replied. He got the feeling he only had a small fraction of her attention at the moment, or rather, he had all of her attention, but the majority of it was directed to his hands. His ministrations paused as he continued his thought.

Hermione looked at him with a smile. "Do you want a massage?" she offered bashfully.

As much as he wanted to accept, he shook his head. "I'll finish giving you your massage if you promise to listen, alright?"

"I'm listening," she vowed, rolling her ankles.

"Good," he said, rewarding her agreement with his hands resuming their manipulation of her feet. "As I was saying, I want to find house, preferably with three bedrooms, somewhere not on top of a joke shop, with a big kitchen, with plenty of dancing space, and…and a yard of some sort."

"In the kitchen?" Hermione teased, just to prove how well she was listening.

Fred laughed and shook his head at her. "Hilarious."

"That sounds really nice, Fred," she told him seriously.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Mhm," she hummed. "But…does it have to be now?"

His eyebrows drew together. "Why not now?"

"Because…" She floundered for her reasons. "Because I really like the way things are," she said finally.

"Hermione, you're pregnant," he reminded.

"I know."

"That changes things," he told her. "This isn't where I want to raise a baby."

Hermione didn't disagree. "We have nine months," she pointed out.

Neither of them bothered to note that it was less than that really. "Hermione," he said. "Please."

She stared at her lap, licking her lips before conceding. "You're right. How about we look into it this weekend?" she suggested. "Who do we call about this sort of thing? Where do we look?"

"I can find the property wizard," Fred assured. "Dad has a friend, I believe. It should be easy from there."

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated.

* * *

Hermione sank into the steaming water and rolled her shoulders back, enjoying the warmth and slipping down quickly to wet her curling tendrils. She looked down at herself in contemplation, her hands resting on her stomach thoughtfully. She tried to picture what she might look like in just a few months. When would she start to show? Ginny's baby bump was only now making itself known, and she was about four months along. Hermione raised her hands several inches above her body and tried to imagine her body swelling to fill that empty space. Perhaps pregnancy would look good on her, she mused. Or perhaps she'd look like a whale.

She let out a sigh.

Maybe it was too early to be picturing things at all. There was no sense to worry herself quite yet.

But then, there were some things she could picture. Like the house that Fred so perfectly described. As she shut her eyes, she saw the green yard and the fragrant garden, green shutters and a sparkling kitchen. She pictured a nursery painted a calming yellow, children's toys strewn about and a living room with a couch perfect for sharing. She wondered what their child would like. A little girl with curling ginger hair, smatterings of freckles, an adorable button nose. A toddling boy with brown eyes and a mischievous grin. They'd be beautiful.

It sounded so perfect. She couldn't understand her own hesitance. Fred seemed so sure. What was stopping her?

* * *

_I really like the way things are._ Fred heard the words play over again and again. She seemed to have meant it.

He locked the register and put the usual wards up around the shop. Hermione had said she was going to take a bath; so, figuring she would be a while, there wasn't a hurry to get back upstairs. He thought perhaps it'd be a good idea to collect his thoughts away from her anyway. Things were easily muddled in her vicinity.

She'd said she liked the way things were. He was glad to hear it, he'd be lying if he said he was anything but happy with how their marriage was going, but he also had to wonder just what that meant. The way things were. Things were comfortable, yes, they were going well, yes, but they were also incredibly undefined and he was having more and more trouble accepting that.

He wanted more from this. From her. Though he was having a hell of a time trying to formulate just what that 'more' was.

And then there were the changes. Now that Hermione was pregnant, it was a whole new game. Their physical relationship was no longer a requirement. If he was unsure about boundaries before, he had no clue whatsoever now. He didn't think he could handle being around her and not being able to do anything about it. He'd meant it when he'd said their intimacy meant more than fulfilling ministry orders, more than just shagging. He thought his feelings came out clearer through his actions, were easier, better, conveyed that way than through any words he'd have been able to throw together. He'd enjoyed every opportunity to try and make her feel even just a part of all that he did.

With those opportunities now gone, he was going to need another way.

And a number of cold showers as well, he was sure.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading and please review! Also, please, please, please point out any mistakes I may have missed, I get the feeling my read through wasn't too thorough. I hope you liked the chapter and I'm sorry it's so short.**

**Any characterization things you think I need to work on? Anything you'd like to see? **

**I'd love to hear what you think!**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


	17. The First Test

"Good morning, Hermione!

"Good morning, Mallory." Hermione smiled at the bright expression on her coworker's face, sitting down at her desk and looking over her agenda for the day, meticulously written out from the day before.

"Guess what I received this morning," Mallory sang, holding up a still sealed envelope, marked by the ministry.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, recognizing the letter immediately. "That's…have you opened it?" she asked.

Mallory shook her head, her dark hair swishing about her shoulders, still jittery with excitement. "No, I'm nervous," she said. "You'll open it with me, won't you?"

"Sure," Hermione agreed. She waited as Mallory hesitantly slipped a finger under the wax and opened the letter.

"I can't read it. It's too much," she said. "Read it to me, please?"

Hermione gingerly took the note from her friend and unfolded it, reading aloud. "Dear Miss Mallory Walters, we, at the Ministry of Magic, hereby write to inform you that your partner in accordance with the—"

"The name, Hermione, the _name_," Mallory stressed.

"Right. Okay. Um…International Magical Office of Law..." Her eyes scanned across the page rapidly. "Damien Weiss," she announced. "Do you know him?"

Mallory shook her head, still smiling. "No," she said. "I've no idea who he is. But I suppose I'll have to write him and find out then, won't I?" Hermione laughed lightly. Mallory looked positively love-struck and she hadn't even met the bloke. "I'm getting married." She giggled giddily and Hermione shook her head in amusement. "I'm going to have to take time off of work," Mallory said. "I'm getting married!"

"Congratulations," Hermione said.

"Thank you," Mallory said. "I need a cuppa. Do you want anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay, well, I'm getting married."

Hermione laughed good-naturedly yet again as she watched Mallory practically dance her way out of the office to the kitchenette.

* * *

"Forge, I don't think this is such a good idea," George said, standing at the top of the stairs warily. He eyed the door to the flat unsurely.

"Like we haven't done this before," Fred said, the sarcasm clearly evident, though even he was little hesitant about going through with it this time. It had been more than a month though. He was too curious for his own good. "Where's your ear?" he asked.

George fished through his pocket and produced a fake ear, sticking it to the side of his head where a spell had long since left him earless. His brother reached forward and straightened the appendage for him before patting his shoulder.

"She'll kill me," George whispered.

"You'll be fine." Fred grinned. "Just don't be yourself."

"I don't know. It's kind of hard to turn this charm off, Freddie," George said, gesturing at himself.

"No need to turn it off," Fred smirked, "turn it up."

"Just remember I'm turning it on your wife," George reminded. Fred frowned.

"Whatever you do, keep it innocent," he said.

"Understood," George said. "Are you sure about this?"

Fred nodded. "Go on," he said.

"Fine," George told him. "But if she gets angry, I'm out of here. You can play the both of us, thanks."

Fred laughed. "I'll be taking the heat on this one," he promised. "Go."

George shook himself, patted the ear, and then went up the last few steps before entering the flat.

"Fred?" Hermione called over her shoulder. She was in the kitchen, the stereo on, paused in her singing to address him. She pulled something out of the oven and shut the door with a lift of her foot and a bump of her hip.

"Hello, love." George briefly wondered if his brother even called her 'love'. It sounded like something Fred would say. He went with it.

Hermione glanced at him with a brief smile. "Dinner's very nearly ready," she said. "I made potatoes…and broccoli…and, well, you put the roast in this morning, so there's that as well." She grinned and George helped her bring the dishes to the table. Plates were already set out. Hermione retrieved glasses from the cabinet and had the water pitcher levitating behind her. "How was your day?" she asked.

They sat down and Hermione served herself before gazing across at him thoughtfully.

"What is it?" he asked with a grin.

Hermione frowned. "Nothing," she said carefully. "How was your day?"

"It was good," he said. "Yours?"

"Fine," she replied.

They ate in pleasant conversation for a while but Hermione continued to watch him with strange looks, shaking her head every couple of minutes. She hadn't even made it halfway through what was on her plate when she took a long sip of water and stood from her seat, standing beside his chair.

George looked up at her. "Yes, Hermione?" he asked.

She smiled. "Will you kiss me?" she requested, her tongue swiping over her bottom lip.

George took a sip from his own glass with a grin. Placing it back on the tabletop, he stretched up toward her and pressed his lips to hers, his hand pulling her down gently by her shoulder. He was aiming for a rather chaste kiss, but as he went to retreat her tongue swept out along his bottom lip, taking him by surprise, and he tried to pull away as subtly as he could.

Hermione smirked. "What's the matter, George?" she asked. "Afraid you might upset Angelina?"

His eyes widened at her as he sat back in his seat. Hermione laughed, circling him to stand on his left side, tucking aside the hair that just barely covered his ear. His fake ear. "Mhm," she hummed in confirmation. George beamed at her, just the slightest bit sheepish and she shook her head. "Okay," she said. "Where's Fred?"

"Who?"

"George, where has my husband gone?" Hermione demanded, surprised by how easily the words rolled off her tongue.

"He might be hiding now," George said.

"You two _still _play this game?" she asked incredulously.

"Only with the special people," George gave her a charming grin. "In fact, this may be record timing actually . Good on you, Hermione."

"Thank you," she noted. "Where is Fred?"

George nodded towards the front door silently.

Hermione marched over and pulled the door open. "Fred Weasley, get in here," she ordered, catching a flicker of his shadow at the stairs.

"Hello," he greeted.

"What is George doing in you place?" she asked.

Fred ignored the question, addressing the more curious matter at hand. "How'd you know it was him?" he questioned.

"Because you two are different!" she exclaimed, slapping his arm. "What are you doing out here and _why_ is your brother pretending to be you‽"

"If it makes you feel better, we did the same to Angelina," George chimed from inside.

Hermione turned on her heel, passed over the threshold and returned to the table. "That's twisted," she declared. "George, are you staying to finish Fred's dinner then?"

George laughed. "No," he said with a smile. "I was hoping this wouldn't take long. Angie should be home by now."

Hermione offered to send him home with dinner, insisting they couldn't finish the food on their own, but George declined politely and bid them goodbye with a smirk. He briefly wished his twin luck before leaving the flat, apparating on his way. Hermione resumed eating without a word, scooting her chair towards the table and keeping her eyes on her plate as Fred sat down beside her.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"No."

Her tone implied otherwise. "Are you sure?"

She chewed and swallowed a bite of potatoes. "I just don't understand why you felt the need to…" she let out a long breath, "test me."

"It wasn't—"

"Yes, it was."

"We just wanted to see if you could tell." He shrugged. "It took Angelina nearly an hour before she picked up on it."

"What if I hadn't?" she asked. "What if it went on for…hours?"

"Hermione, it wasn't to determine anything but whether or not you could tell us apart yet."

"Your mother can't even tell you apart sometimes," she said. "What made you think I could?"

"Wishful thinking, I suppose."

"That's an awful little game."

He shrugged. "But you won it," he pointed out. He chewed thoughtfully. "Best player ever, actually. I think the only other person who's figured it out nearly so fast might be Lee, and even then, we think he just took his luck with a guess."

Hermione shook her head, still frowning. She hesitated a moment before saying what she did next, her voice firm. "Don't ever try that again."

He chuckled as he saw the slightest of smiles pull the corners of her mouth. With a nod, he drew an X on his chest. "Promise."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly," she said.

Fred gave her a sheepish smile. "So, what was it?" he asked. "The ear thing?"

"No," she replied simply.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "How'd you know then?"

She shrugged daintily with an amused smile, refusing to answer the question all throughout the rest of dinner. Fred was persistent, becoming more and more intrigued with every unanswered attempt and negated guess. Finally, Hermione stood to clear her plate and excused herself to shower.

"Wait," Fred said. She turned as her hand closed around the doorknob to the loo. "You have to tell me," he said. "It's part of the game."

He watched with interest as a blush heated her cheeks. "Well, I never asked to play," she told him, disappearing into the bathroom with a click of the lock.

It was killing him. Even as they got into bed that night the question continued to sit at the front of his mind. "How'd you know?" he asked again.

Hermione rolled over to look at the clock. "Fred, it's nearly eleven o'clock. I have to be up early tomorrow," she said. "Would you please let me rest?"

For a moment he felt rather guilty. "We could both get some rest if you'd just tell me," he told her.

"Consider this punishment for your cruel and unusual antics," she mumbled, wrapping herself further in the sheets and sighing. She truly wished he would just shut up and spoon her so they could both get to sleep.

Fred turned on his side and carefully brushed her hair away from her face. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Please, love?" he implored.

"Go to sleep."

"Not until you tell me. Did he say something I wouldn't?" he tried.

"Not exactly."

He brightened, that was the closest he'd gotten to an affirmative answer yet. "What'd he say?"

Hermione let out an exasperated huff and turned to face him. "Fine," she relented. "It just wasn't the same, alright? There was something about the whole scene that wasn't you. George didn't seem as…at ease. And his expressions weren't the same."

"We have practically the same face," Fred reminded, inwardly elated that she found differences at all and purposefully prompting her to explain further.

"Practically," she repeated. "Not quite." She raised a hand and traced his jaw. "When you grin," she told him, "this corner pulls up just a little bit higher." She lightly touched the aforementioned corner with a small smile. Her finger skimmed down the centre of his nose. "Your noses just aren't quite the same either, though I can't even place how…and…you have more freckles here," she let out a quiet breath as her thumb brushed over his cheek, "while George has more…here," her thumb travelled down his cheek a bit. She blushed. "And then when George kissed me…well, looking at his ear was hardly necessary at that point."

"He kissed you?"

"He did." She smiled at the face he pulled. "It was different."

Fred snickered. "Aw. Was Georgie no good at it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No," she said. "It just…" she blushed, "it wasn't like when you kiss me."

"Oh? How's that?" he prodded.

"You always play with my hair," she said. "And…" She replayed her brief kiss with George, trying to pinpoint the differences. She then imagined Fred kissing her, compiling a montage of sorts in her mind. She could almost feel the way he gripped her waist, the way he touched her, how his lips felt against hers. "I don't know," she said. "It wasn't the same."

"My kisses are better though, right?" he teased.

Hermione smirked. "I don't know…"

Fred growled playfully and rolled towards her, propping up on his elbow, his head dipping down so he could meet her lips. His mouth moved over hers expertly, warm and inviting as his tongue parted her lips and sought hers. Just as she'd expected, and so eagerly wanted, his fingers twined into her hair, finding the back of her neck and applying just enough pressure for her to tilt her head back for him. She steeped into the bliss of his attentions with a deep sigh, all but whimpering as he pulled away, drawing her bottom lip between his as he went.

"Well, Hermione, do you know now?" he asked, his lips ghosting over hers with each word.

She looked up at him, her heart suddenly taking on an erratic pattern as she met his eyes. She gave a nearly unnoticed nod. "You win."

He grinned and slipped his arm about her waist, lying down and pulling her just slightly in to his chest. He was beyond pleased when she hummed, placed her hand atop his and weaved her fingers into the spaces between his own, snuggling back into him. He kissed her neck. "Did you take your potion—?"

"Mhm."

"Okay. Goodnight, love."

She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. "Goodnight, Fred."

* * *

Hermione came through the emerald flames into the Potters home with a smile. She dusted herself off and stepped out of the fireplace, looking around. "Ginny?" she called.

Harry came strolling into the room then, brightening as he saw her. "Hermione," he said. He dropped his paper on the couch and met her halfway as she moved to hug him. "How are you?" he asked.

"Good. You?" Hermione replied.

Harry nodded. "Great," he said. "Gin said you guys are going…out?"

Hermione shook her head. "Actually, I owe Ginny a very, very, belated birthday spa day," she said. "We'll be out for the day."

"And thank Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed, coming downstairs. "I am so sick of sitting around this house all day! I'm pregnant, not comatose!"

Hermione laughed as she saw the redhead round the bottom of the stairs and join them in the sitting room. "How goes it, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shot a look Harry's way, placing a hand over her now sizeable baby bump. "I feel like I'm under house arrest," she told her.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I'm not confining you to the house!" he argued. "You're allowed to go outside."

"Oh, I'm _allowed_, am I?" Ginny mocked. She turned to Hermione. "I'm _allowed _so long as I have someone with me. So long as I'm not doing anything _tiring, _or _stressful_, or, heaven forbid, _important_."

"Ginny," Harry said.

"Mood swings?" Hermione asked quietly.

"The worst," he replied.

"Don't. Even," Ginny growled.

"Alright," Hermione said. "We're going to the spa to rejuvenate, de-stress and do absolutely nothing of real importance. So, no worries, Mr. Potter," she assured. "Now say goodbye to your wife so we can get going."

"I love you, Gin," Harry told her, leaning in to peck her lips sweetly.

Her returning expression was something between a suppressed grin and a scowl. "I love you, too."

Hermione smiled fondly at the pair before Ginny ushered her back to the floo and they were off to the spa, a muggle one she'd promised she'd take Ginny to. She had bought the certificates in time for Ginny's birthday, but they had never booked the appointments. Things had gotten much too busy with work, weddings, and life in general. When Ginny had complained about dying to get out of the house, Hermione had figured now was as good a time as ever. Hermione was looking forward to spending the day with Ginny, even if it meant being poked and prodded for facials, manicures and pedicures.

"So," Ginny wiggled her toes in the warm water her feet soaked in as she got her nails painted a deep purple, "how's Fred?" she asked.

Hermione stared at the deep pink polish being painted on to her pinkie. "Fred's good," she replied. "We're going to look at houses tomorrow."

"Houses?" Ginny repeated. "You're moving?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Fred really wants to buy a house, you know, for us, and…" she chose her words carefully, "for when we have a baby." They still hadn't told anyone.

"And you don't? Want to move, I mean." Ginny asked.

Hermione's mouth twisted uncertainly. "No," she said. "No, I'm sure once we find a house I'll be...well, I'm sure I'll like and I'll want to move in, but…right now, I'm happy where we are." She sighed. "I don't know. It all just seems so fast. Maybe too fast," she murmured.

Ginny laughed softly. "Well, of course it's fast. You were forced to get married."

"Right," Hermione said dryly, "I almost forgot."

"Arranged marriage?" the manicurist asked curiously.

Hermione nodded. "Something like that," she dismissed.

The manicurist nodded, finishing Hermione's left hand. "Don't touch anything," she ordered. "I'll be right back to work on your toes. Can I get you ladies anything to drink?"

"Hot water and lemon?" Hermione requested. Ginny quickly agreed and asked for the same.

"So, where are you looking for houses?" Ginny questioned.

"I've no idea," Hermione said after a moment's pause. "Fred said he'd handle it. I took his word for it."

"Bright idea," Ginny joked.

Hermione shook her head. "You know, he's more responsible than you all give him credit for."

"Oh, I know. It's just when you put him and George together that things go a little awry. Though they do manage to get it all right in the end. Every damn time."

Hermione laughed at the truth in all of that, thinking back to earlier that week and the silly switching stunt they tried to pull. "No kidding," she said finally.

Ginny grinned. "Look at you, defending your husband," she teased.

"Even if he wasn't my husband," Hermione said, "Fred's…kind of amazing, actually. If you just know him."

"Like you know him now?"

"I think I so, yes."

Ginny shot a sly look toward her friend. "Do you love him yet?" she questioned.

"Do I-do…Fred?" Hermione stammered.

Ginny grinned. "Yes, Fred. Are you in love with him now?"

"I…"

* * *

**A/N: Oh, please oh please don't hate me for this. Also, does this chapter seem too out of place to you? As always, thank you for reading and please review. I'd really love it if you would tell me what your favourite scene/line/part of this chapter(or, even better, the entire story if something has stuck out to you) is and/or let me know what you're hoping to see. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! I love writing, but I adore writing for all of you. Thank you.**

**Anyways,**

**Scarlett**


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